SWALLOWED  UP 


SWALLOWED  UP 


BY 

MRS.  WILSON  WOODROW 


NEW  YORK 

BRENTANO'S 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
BRENTANO'S 

Copyright,   1922,  by 
THE  RIDGWAY  COMPANY 


PRINTED   IN    THB   UNITED    STATES   OT   AMERICA 


VAIL-BALLOU     COMPANY 
•  INQHAHTON  AND  NEW  TCMIC 


.' 


SWALLOWED  UP 


SWALLOWED  UP 

By  Mrs.  Wilson  Woodrow 

CHAPTER  I 

HOPE   RANGER  walked  down  the  hall  to 
her   mother's   sitting-room. 
The  moment  she  had  passed  inside  and 
closed  the  door  behind  her,  a  man  servant  stepped  out 
of  the  automatic  lift  a  little  further  along  the  corridor 
and   followed  her   noiselessly.     He  had  some  letters 
on  a  tray,  but  it  apparently  was  not  his  intention  to 
deliver   them   at   once.     Instead,   he   paused   close   to 
the  sitting-room  door,  his  head  inclined,  listening. 

As  Hope  entered,  her  mother  looked  up  with  a 
smile  from  some  notes  she  was  writing. 

"Going  out,  darling?"  she  asked. 

"No,  dear  heart;  I'm  going  to  spend  a  long,  lazy 
afternoon,  shoveling  coal  in  the  cellar."  Hope  laughed 
at  the  superfluous  question.  She  so  manifestly  was 
going  out.  Not  for  house  wear  were  the  tailored 
suit,  the  smart  small  hat  on  her  dark  hair,  the  expensive 
bag  that  swung  from  her  wrist. 

"I'm  to  meet  Lucia  at  the  Plaza.,"  she  explained, 
dropping  her  bantering  tone.  "Her  mother  will  be 
there  with  some  people,  but  we  shan't  bother  with 

9 


io  SWALLOWED  UP 

them.  After  luncheon,  they  are  going  on  to  a  matinee 
— that  is,  Lucia  and  her  mother  are — but  it's  'Phil 
ander,'  and  I've  seen  it  three  times,  you  know,  so  I 
begged  off.  I'll  pick  up  some  veils  and  a  few  things 
I  need,  and  then  home." 

The  man  outside  had  his  ear  against  the  door  now, 
unwilling  to  miss  a  word  of  the  conversation;  but  at 
the  same  time  his  eyes  were  watching  alertly  along 
the  hall  and  down  the  staircase. 

"I  don't  know,  though,"  Hope  reconsidered,  "but 
that  I'd  better  drop  into  Silcott's  and  hurry  him  up 
with  those  fittings.  If  by  any  miracle  he  is  ready,  I 
could  telephone  you  to  come  down.  Or,  better  still, 
come  to  luncheon  with  us,  and  then  go  there  with 
me.  Do,  mother,"  she  urged. 

The  eavesdropper's  mouth  twisted  downward  as 
Mrs.  Ranger  hesitated ;  but  his  ugly  expression  cleared 
as  he  caught  her  answer. 

"No-o;  I'll  not  tag.  You  and  Lucia  will  enjoy 
yourselves  more  alone.  Besides,  I've  no  end  of  things, 
to  look  after.  Are  you  driving  down,  dear?" 

Again  the  man  at  the  door  held  his  breath,  waiting 
for  Hope's  reply. 

"I  need  the  walk,"  she  shrugged  lightly.  "My  skin 
is  crying  for  air  and  exercise."  She  scrutinized  her 
reflection  in  a  dim  mirror  with  a  quaint,  tarnished 
gilt  frame. 

Everything  in  this  intimate  room  of  Mrs.  Ranger's 
was  old  and  faintly  tarnished.  In  her  day  she.  had. 


SWALLOWED  UP  n 

been  a  beauty,  Southern  as  her  name,  Mary  Louise 
Beauchamp  Carter — poor  as  poverty  with  generations 
of  wealth  behind  her — born  to  a  leaking  family  roof- 
tree,  old  family  silver,  old  family  pictures,  old  family 
servants,  the  latter  dwindling  in  number  until  none 
remained. 

Her  mother  had  pinned  her  last  hope  to  Mary  Lou ; 
but  before  the  rash  girl  was  twenty  she  had  lost  her 
head  over  a  rising  young  nobody  at  all,  Loring  Ran 
ger,  with  less  background  than  a  chipmunk  and  no 
particularly  substantial  foreground,  and  had  recklessly 
married  him.  Mrs.  Carter  shed  tears  steadily,  and 
only  abandoned  them  for  equally  steady  smiles  when 
she  realized  the  genius  of  her  son-in-law  for  making 
money  hand  over  hand — lucky  hands  that  turned 
everything  they  touched  into  gold.  Then,  completely 
reconciled,  she  gave  them  her  blessing,  bestowed  upon 
them  the  family  heirlooms  and  departed  this  life  in 
peace. 

Hope,  so  far  as  a  physical  presentment  goes,  was 
a  replica  of  what  her  mother  had  been  at  her  age.  The 
difference  lay  in  point  of  view.  Mary  Lou  was  a 
product  of  the  Age  of  Innocence ;  Hope  was  twentieth 
century  to  her  finger-tips,  sure  of  herself,  confident  of 
her  ability  to  meet  any  situation,  with  a  knowledge 
of  the  world  and  of  the  facts  of  life  which  amazed 
and  occasionally  shocked  her  mother. 

She  turned  now  from  the  inspection  of  herself  in 
the  glass. 


12  SWALLOWED  UP 

"So  you  don't  care  for  my  society  to-day;  some 
intrigue  on  hand?"  She  was  rewarded  with  the  re 
proachful  glance  she  expected.  "Well,  amuse  your 
self  your  own  way." 

Mischievously  she  ruffled  her  mother's  sleek  head, 
cuffing  her  affectionately  first  on  one  ear  and  then  on 
the  other,  and,  bending  down,  kissed  her  cheek. 

"Good-by." 

"Oh,  wait  a  moment!"  Mrs.  Ranger  caught  her 
hand.  "I  forgot  to  tell  you,  your  father  won't  be 
home  this  evening.  He's  having  some  out-of-town 
men  at  the  club.  Why  shouldn't  you  and  I  do  a  play?" 

"No  reason  on  earth."  Hope  nodded.  "Choose 
something  neither  of  us  has  seen.  A  slushy,  weepy 
one — the  kind  you  like." 

She  had  reached  the  door  when  her  mother  stopped 
her  again. 

"You'll  telephone  from  Silcott's,  you  say,  if  he's 
ready  for  your  fittings?  That  will  be  about  three 
o'clock,  I  suppose?" 

"Or  even  earlier." 

Her  hand  was  on  the  knob  now,  but  once  more  her 
mother  detained  her. 

"Wait!"  Mrs.  Ranger  cried,  with  a  wistful  re 
luctance  to  see  her  go,  she  didn't  know  just  why. 
"No,"  shaking  her  head;  "there  was  something 
I  wanted  to  say,  but  it's  slipped  my  mind.  Run 
along." 

"You  want  to  make  me  late — that's  all."     Hope 


SWALLOWED  UP  13 

made  a  funny  little  face  at  her  from  the  doorway. 

The  man  servant  was  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
with  his  tray  of  letters  as  she  came  out. 

"Anything  for  me,  Fitch?" 

"No,  Miss  Ranger;  they're  all  for  Mrs.  Ranger." 

Hope  ran  down  the  stairs.  A  moment  later  she 
was  walking  through  the  cross-street  on  which  they 
lived,  and  at  the  corner  she  turned  down  Fifth  Avenue. 

A  delectable  morning.  There  was  just  enough 
crispness  in  the  air  to  quicken  the  blood.  The  trees 
beyond  the  gray  wall  of  the  park  were  a  mist  of 
green;  light  clouds  jostled  each  other  in  the  blue 
spaces  of  the  sky  and  hurried  on  toward  the  sea; 
window-boxes  were  bright  with  tulips  and  hyacinths, 
their  delicate  fragrance  mingling  with  the  smell  of 
gasoline,  which  always  lies  over  this  one  of  the  world's 
great  thoroughfares.  Shining  motors  were  spin 
ning  along.  People  stepped  out  briskly,  while  the 
sun  overlaid  with  its  gilt  patina  the  whole  vivacious 
scene. 

The  face  of  more  than  one  passer-by  brightened 
at  the  sight  of  Hope.  She  was  so  in  accord  with  the 
morning.  She  gave  so  convincingly  the  impression 
that  she  had  not  an  ungratified  wish — that  there  were 
no  moons  for  which  she  was  secretly  crying — that  they, 
too,  for  one  brief  optimistic  moment  felt  that  life  was 
good  and  life  was  gay. 

She  walked  on  down  the  Avenue,  and  crossing  over 
at  Fifty-ninth  Street,  arrived  at  the  Plaza  just  as  her 


i4  SWALLOWED  UP 

friend,  Lucia  Thorne,  and  the  latter's  mother  alighted 
from  a  limousine  which  had  drawn  up  before  the  en 
trance. 

There  was  an  exchange  of  greetings  and  a  mo 
ment  or  two  of  laughing  chatter  on  the  sidewalk; 
then  the  three  passed  together  into  the  hotel. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  who  had  been  listening  at  the 
keyhole  stole  furtively  out  of  the  house  by  an  area 
door  and  made  his  way  to  a  telephone  station  in  the 
back  of  a  near-by  cigar  store. 


CHAPTER  H 

A  WESTERN  manufacturer,  one  of  Loring 
Ranger's  two  guests  at  dinner  that  evening, 
was  just  reaching  the  point  of  a  story  which 
had  been  interrupted  by  frequent  bursts  of  laughter 
when  the  club  hallboy  approached  the  table  and  in 
formed  Mr.  Ranger  that  he  was  wanted  on  the  tele 
phone.  Ranger  laid  down  the  cigar  he  had  lighted. 

"One  moment,"  he  said  rising.  "And,  Arnold, 
hold  your  breath  and  don't  finish  that  story  until  I 
come  back.  If  you  do,  you'll  have  to  go  all  over  it 
again." 

He  made  his  way  through  the  dining-room,  a  big, 
good-looking,  dominant  man,  and  into  a  telephone- 
booth. 

"Loring!"  His  wife's  voice  came  quaveringly  over 
the  wire.  "Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  get  you.  I'm  terribly 
worried.  Hope  went  out  this  morning  and  hasn't 
come  back  yet.  And  it  is  nine  o'clock." 

"Where  did  she  go?"  he  asked. 

"To  have  luncheon  with  Lucia  Thorne.  Then  she 
expected  to  do  an  errand  or  two  and  come  home." 

Ranger  laughed  easily. 

"She's  gone  on  some  party  with  Lucia.     Probably 

15 


1 6  SWALLOWED  UP 

she  telephoned,  and  they've  neglected  to  give  you  the 
message." 

"No,"  Mrs.  Ranger's  tone  was  positive.  "I've 
questioned  all  of  the  servants.  Then  I  called  up  the 
Thornes.  Mrs.  Thorne  says  that  Hope  left  them  a 
few  minutes  after  two,  telling  them  just  what  she  told 
me,  about  attending  to  her  errands  and  then  coming 
home.  She  and  I  were  going  to  a  play  this  evening." 

"Now,  now,  Mary  Lou,"  he  spoke  soothingly, 
"there's  no  reason  to  get  excited.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  Hope's  perfectly  able  to  look  out  for  her 
self — no  one  better.  She's  having  a  good  time  some 
where  and  doesn't  realize  how  late  it's  getting.  That's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

But  he  was  frowning  as  he  uttered  the  reassuring 
words;  the  incident  disturbed  him  more  than  he  cared 
to  have  his  wife  know.  There  was  an  uneasy  clutch 
at  his  heart  as  the  thousand  possibilities  of  danger 
in  a  vast  city  flashed  across  his  mind. 

"You're  all  in,"  he  said,  pretending  to  be  concerned 
only  on  her  account;  "so  I'm  coming  home  at  once. 
If  she  isn't  there  before  I  am,  I'll  trace  her  for  you 
in  no  time.  Just  keep  cool  and  don't  fret;  it'll  be 
all  right." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch  as  he  hung  up  the  receiver. 
Twenty  minutes  after  nine.  Again  his  brow  con 
tracted;  it  was  unlike  Hope  to  be  so  inconsiderate, 
knowing  her  mother's  inclination  to  worry. 


SWALLOWED  UP  17 

The  Rangers,  it  will  be  seen,  were  not  ultramodern. 
New  York,  in  spite  of  its  chroniclers,  is  not  all  jazz 
and  home  brew,  nor  is  the  Fifth  Commandment  en 
tirely  overruled.  There  are  families  of  quite  good 
social  position,  even  since  the  war,  where  the  un 
explained  absence  of  a  daughter  after  reasonable  hours 
gives  rise  to  question. 

But  Mr.  Ranger,  although  disquieted,  was  not  par 
ticularly  alarmed.  Girls,  even  the  best  of  them,  are 
apt  to  be  thoughtless,  and  Hope  was  certain  to  show 
up  before  long  with  some  plausible  explanation  for 
her  negligence. 

Still  he  lost  no  time  in  excusing  himself  to  his  guests, 
and,  hurrying  out  to  a  taxi,  told  the  chauffeur  to  take 
him  home,  and  "step  on  it." 

On  the  way  he  succeeded  so  well  in  convincing 
himself  that  Hope  was  either  already  returned  or 
had  been  heard  from,  that  when  he  entered  the  house 
he  was  quite  prepared  to  tease  his  wife  over  her  tem 
pest  in  a  teapot.  But  the  jocular  sentence  died  on  his 
lips  as  she  met  him  in  the  hall,  white-faced  and  tense. 

"No  word  yet?"  he  asked,  and,  as  she  mutely  shook 
her  head,  put  his  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  drew 
her  into  the  library. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said,  "and  tell  me  all  you  know." 

Making  a  brave  effort  to  control  her  agitation, 
Mrs.  Ranger  recounted  as  faithfully  as  she  could  the 
conversation  between  Hope  and  herself  that  morning 
and  the  program  the  girl  had  outlined  for  her  move- 


1 8  SWALLOWED  UP 

ments.  She  had  not  really  become  anxious,  she  said, 
until  about  six  o'clock,  knowing  that  Mrs.  Thorne 
and  Lucia  might  easily  have  persuaded  Hope  to  ac 
company  them  to  the  matinee;  and  even  later  she 
kept  trying  to  tell  herself  that  Hope  might  also  have 
decided  to  dine  with  the  Thornes,  although,  in  that 
case,  it  seemed  strange  that  she  had  not  telephoned  her 
intentions. 

But  when  it  neared  the  theater-hour  she  had  grown 
panicky  and  had  called  up  first  the  Thornes  and  then 
all  of  Hope's  more  intimate  friends,  both  men  and 
girls,  whom  she  was  able  to  reach,  but  without  the 
slightest  result.  She  had  also  telephoned  the  tailor, 
getting  him  after  some  difficulty  at  his  home,  but  he 
insisted  that  Miss  Ranger  had  not  been  at  his  establish 
ment  that  afternoon.  If  she  had  come  in,  he  would 
certainly  have  been  informed. 

Ranger,  who  had  listened  intently  to  her  report, 
gave  a  puzzled  shake  of  the  head,  and,  stepping  into 
the  hall  spoke  to  the  butler. 

"I've  sent  for  Higby,"  he  said,  returning.  "He'll 
probably  laugh  at  us  as  a  couple  of  fools.  But  I 
don't  care.  We  need  the  cool  advice  of  an  outsider." 

Eustace  Higby  was  Ranger's  attorney  and  a  warm 
friend  of  the  family,  with  an  apartment  only  half  a 
block  away. 

While  they  waited  for  him,  Ranger  occupied  himself 
constructing  different  theories  to  account  for  Hope's 
absence  and  failure  to  communicate,  his  favorite  one 


SWALLOWED  UP  19 

being  that  she  had  been  persuaded  to  motor  into  the 
country  with  a  party  of  friends,  and  that  they  had 
found  themselves  stalled  at  some  spot  remote  from 
either  telephone  or  telegraph  station. 

"The  trouble  is,  we've  given  her  too  free  a  hand, 
Mary  Lou,"  he  grumbled.  "Ah!"  starting  up  as  he 
heard  the  hall  door  close.  "There  she  is  now!" 

But  it  was  Higby,  the  lawyer,  not  Hope,  who  in 
response  to  the  butler's  direction  turned  into  the  library. 

"Time  and  a  half  for  overtime,  Ranger,"  he  warned 
banteringly.  "What's  the  idea  of—  He  broke  off 
as  he  saw  their  drawn  faces  and  took  a  quick  step 
forward.  "Something  wrong?"  he  asked  sharply. 

But  as  the  explanation  proceeded,  the  lines  about  his 
eyes  began  to  crinkle,  and  at  the  finish,  as  Ranger 
had  predicted,  he  gave  a  mirthful  chuckle. 

"You  two  ridiculous  old  hens  with  your  lone  duck 
ling!"  He  regarded  them  with  mock  compassion 
and,  walking  over  to  the  table,  helped  himself  to  a 
cigarette. 

"No  more  to  it  than  that!"  He  threw  the  match 
with  a  careless  flip  into  the  ash-tray.  "Hope  isn't 
a  baby.  She's  twenty  years  old,  knows  her  New 
York  like  a  book,  and  is  quite  as  sophisticated  as  all 
girls  are  nowadays.  You've  given  her  everything  in 
the  world  but  one  thing — "  he  flung  up  his  arm  in 
an  open-handed  gesture — "adventure.  Naturally  she 
wants  a  touch  of  it,  so  she's  gone  on  some  little  harm 
less  spree  of  her  own." 


20  SWALLOWED  UP 

"No!  No!"  cried  Mrs.  Ranger  impatiently.  "You 
know  Hope  too  well  really  to  believe  anything  of  that 
sort,  Eustace.  The  most  devoted,  the  most  consider 
ate  of  girls.  Or  if  you're  just  talking  to  keep  up  our 
courage,  it's  wasted.  You  can't  explain  her  staying 
out  this  way  with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders 
— not  to  me,  anyhow.  There's  every  reason  to  be  se 
riously  alarmed.  Oh — "  her  voice  broke  suddenly,  and 
she  wrung  her  hands — "won't  you  two  men  do  some 
thing?  I  want  something  done." 

"That's  right,"  assented  Ranger  strongly.  "I  don't 
propose  to  sit  around  here  any  longer,  trying  to  argue 
with  myself  «that  everything  is  all  right  when  I  know 
very  well  that  it  isn't.  .'Every  day  people  older  and 
more  sophisticated  than  Hope  are  being  knocked  down 
by  automobiles,  or — "  he  glanced  at  his  wife,  and  added 
lamely — "or*  having  something  happen  to  them." 

Higby  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  satisfied  you  two  are  making  a  mountain  out  of 
a  very  insignificant  molehill,"  he  insisted  optimistically. 
"Still,  to  relieve  all  of  our  minds,  I'll  make  sure." 

He  busied  himself  at  the  telephone,  his  investigations 
lasting  some  time,  owing  to  the  extreme  care  he  took 
to  avoid  any  opportunity  for  publicity;  but  in  the  end 
he  was  able  to  announce  that  no  young  woman  answer 
ing  to  the  description  of  Hope  Ranger  had  been  re 
ported  at  any  of  the  hospitals  or  station-houses  of  the 
city  as  the  victim  of  an.  accident  or  sudden  illness. 

But  this  assurance  rather  added  to  than  relieved  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  21 

perplexities  of  the  situation.  Ranger,  nervously  pacing 
the  floor,  expressed  the  general  feeling  when  he  mut 
tered  : 

"By  George,  I  almost  wish  it  had  been  the  other  way 
round.  Then,  at  least,  we  would  know  where  she  is." 

Higby  tapped  his  finger-nail  with  a  pencil  he  had 
taken  from  his  pocket  and  glanced  at  the  clock.  It 
was  on  the  stroke  of  twelve. 

"I  still  believe,"  he  said  dryly,  "that  you  will  re 
ceive  a  message  from  Hope  to-night — or,  at  any  rate, 
by  to-morrow  morning." 

"To-morrow  morning?"  Mrs.  Ranger  echoed,  with 
a  tremulous  gasp. 

The  lawyer  cleared  his  throat  and  laid  down  the 
pencil. 

"Ranger,"  his  tone  was  direct,  incisive,  "there's  no 
use  in  beating  about  the  bush  this  way.  If  you  want 
me  to  help  you,  we  must  have  absolute  frankness." 

Husband  and  wife  stared  at  him,  uncomprehending, 
and  then  at  each  other. 

"What   do   you   mean?"    growled    Ranger. 

"Simply  this :  You  and  I  have  been  not  only  lawyer 
and  client  but  friends  and  neighbors  as  well.  Still,  no 
matter  how  close  an  intimacy  may  be,  there  are  always 
undercurrents  in  the  life  of  every  family  which  remain 
unknown  to  an  outsider.  What  I  want  you  to  tell 
me,  both  of  you,  is  the  real  reason  why  Hope  left 
home." 

"Why  Hope  left  home?"  repeated  Ranger. 


22  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Left  home!''  cried  Mrs.  Ranger,  starting  up. 
"Left  home !  How  crazy  of  you,  Eustace  Higby ! 
How  perfectly  crazy!" 

"Is  it?"  he  retorted,  unshaken.  "Since  there  has 
been  no  accident,  and  since  it  is  absurd,  unbeliev 
able  that  a  girl  of  her  age  and  knowledge  of  the  world 
could  have  been  abducted  or  enticed  away,  it  follows 
that  she  must  have  gone  of  her  own  accord.  But 
what  was  her  motive  in  doing  so?  Is  there  some 
love  affair  back  of  this?" 

Ranger  started  to  speak,  and  then  glanced  doubt 
fully  at  his  wife.  But  she  shook  her  head  violently. 

"No,"  she  insisted.  "Hope  has  had  flirtations,  of 
course — lots  of  them ;  she  is  popular.  She  plays  about 
with  the  boys  in  her  set,  and  some  older  men.  Once 
or  twice  she  has  seemed  on  the  verge  of  taking  one 
of  them  seriously,  but  it  came  to  nothing.  I  know 
that  positively.  I  was  her  confidante  in  everything. 
She  always  knew  that  she  could  talk  to  me  about  any 
thing  under  the  sun.  We  were  more  like  two  sisters 
than  mother  and  daughter." 

"There  was  no  man  to  whom  you  objected,  whom 
you  had  urged  her  not  to  see  or,  perhaps,  had  for 
bidden  the  house?" 

"Absolutely  not."  Ranger's  denial  was  emphatic. 
"I  see  what  you  are  driving  at,  Higby,  but  you  are 
on  the  wrong  tack  altogether." 

"Well,  then,  was  there  any  other  cause  for  disagree 
ment?  Did  she,  for  instance,  have  ambitions  for  a 


SWALLOWED  UP  23 

so-called  career — want  to  live  her  own  life — or  go  on 
the  stage — or 

"No!  No!"  protested  the  mother  wildly.  "If  she 
had  had  any  such  longings,  we  would  not  have  op 
posed  her.  But  there  was  never  anything  of  the  sort. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  waste  time  in  this  silly  question 
ing?  Hope  never  went  away  of  her  own  free  will, 
I  don't  care  what  you  say.  There  was  no  reason  for 
it.  She  was  happy  in  her  home.  She  was  devoted 
to  me  and  adored  her  father.  We  never  placed  a 
single  restriction  on  her;  we  didn't  have  to.  You 
know  her  yourself,  Eustace;  did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  in  her  that  was  not  normal  and  wholesome  and 
straightforward?  Well,  she  was  just  that  way  al 
ways.  How  cruel  of  you  to  insinuate  that  she  was 
sly  and  morbid  and  deceitful  and —  It  isn't  true!" 
she  maintained,  torn  with  hysterical  sobbing.  "It 
isn't  true!  She  never  willingly  left  us  without  a 
word.  Something  has  happened  to  her.  Even  now 
she  may  be  suffering — dying!  Oh,  is  there  nothing 
you  men  can  do  but  talk  and  ask  questions.?  I  want 
my  little  girl!  I  want  my  baby!" 

Her  husband  put  his  arms  about  her  and  held  her 
close. 

"We'll  find  her,"  he  said  through  his  clenched  teeth. 
"We'll  find  her.  Don't  believe  anything  else,  Mary 
Lou.  What's  my  money  good  for,  if  it  can't  do 
that?" 

The  lawyer  sat  thinking,  pulling  at  his  chin.     Then 


24  SWALLOWED  UP 

he  got  up  with  an  air  of  decision  and  reached  for  his 
hat. 

"I'm  going  down  to  talk  to  Lucia  Thorne,"  he  said. 
"She  was  the  last  person  we  know  of  that  Hope  saw, 
and  her  most  intimate  friend,  wasn't  she?  Well- 
in  answer  to  Mrs.  Ranger's  eager  nod — "that  young 
woman  is  in  for  the  stiffest  kind  of  a  cross-exam 
ination.  If  she  knows  anything  she  isn't  telling,  trust 
me  to  frighten  it  out  of  her  before  I  get  through.  If 
she's  a  blank —  '  he  paused  and  pursed  up  his  lips — 
"then  I  guess  there's  nothing  to  do,  Loring,  but  go 
to  the  commissioner  of  police." 

"The  commissioner  of  police?"  Rangier  drew  his 
brows  together,  wincing  at  the  thought  of  the  attend 
ant  notoriety. 

"If  it  comes  to  that — yes.  There's  no  use  fooling 
away  time  in  half-measures  or  with  private  detectives. 
With  the  influence  we  can  command,  we  may  be  able 
to  manage  so  that  nothing  gets  out,  but  we'll  have  to 
risk  that  end  of  it.  To  get  the  best  results,  though, 
I'll  have  to  offer  a  reward,  I  suppose.  How  high 
would  you  be  willing  to  go?" 

"Anything."  Ranger  gave  an  indifferent  wave  of 
the  hand.  "Whatever  is  customary." 

"Whatever  is  customary?"  Mrs.  Ranger  was  shrill 
in  her  scorn.  "Tell  them  they  can  have  everything 
we've  got — everything — if  they'll  only  give  me  back 
my  daughter." 

Higby  considered  the  matter.     "I'll  tell  you,"  he 


SWALLOWED  UP  25 

decided,  "we'll  make  it  five  thousand  to  start  with. 
Then  we  can  increase  it  to  ten  if  necessary.  But  it 
won't  be.  It  won't  be  necessary  to  go  to  the  police 
at  all.  Take  my  word  for  it,  you'll  have  reassuring 
news  in  a  very  short  time.  Yes — "  responding  to  Mrs. 
Ranger's  imploring  glance — "I'm  confident  of  it." 
He  caught  her  hand  in  a  firm,  hopeful  clasp.  "Now, 
keep  up  your  courage,  both  of  you.  I'm  right  on  the 
job  every  minute,  and  there  won't  be  a  stone  left  un 
turned.  I'll  keep  in  touch  with  you,  too,  so  that  we 
can  advise  each  other  immediately  of  any  develop 
ments." 

"Thanks,  old  man."  Ranger's  voice  was  husky  as  he 
followed  him  to  the  door.  "I  don't  know  what  we 
should  have  done  without  you." 


CHAPTER  III 

OUTSIDE,  Higby  caught  a  passing  taxicab 
and,  giving  the  number  of  the  Thome  resi 
dence,  slammed  the  door  and  sank  back 
wearily.  He  was  distressed  that  his  old  friends  should 
be  undergoing  this  ordeal,  and  the  interview  with 
them  had  drawn  heavily  on  his  sympathies ;  but  he 
was  far  from  sharing  their  anxious  apprehensions. 

"It's  an  elopement,  of  course,"  he  muttered  to  him 
self  as  he  lighted  a  cigarette.  "Naturally,  they  can't 
see  it — she  kept  the  affair  dark;  but  I'll  soon  worm  the 
truth  out  of  the  Thorne  girl." 

It  seemed  for  a  time,  though,  that  his  promised 
interrogation  of  Lucia  would  have  to  be  deferred ;  for 
on  reaching  the  house,  he  rang  repeatedly  without 
arousing  any  response,  and  when  a  sleepy  servant 
finally  appeared  to  answer  the  bell,  it  required  all  his 
powers  of  persuasion  to  gain  admittance. 

But  when  Mrs.  Thorne  came  down  and  he  had  ex 
plained  the  nature  of  his  errand,  she  readily  grasped 
the  situation,  and  as  soon  as  Lucia  could  make  a  hasty 
toilet,  sent  her  into  the  room  alone. 

The  girl,  he  had  to  confess,  seemed  appalled  at  the 
news  her  mother  had  brought  her  and  genuinely  alarmed 
for  Hope's  safety.  She  had  frequently  to  wipe  away 

26 


SWALLOWED  UP  27 

the  tears  that  rolled  down  her  cheeks;  and  as  the 
inquiry  proceeded,  Higby  became  more  and  more 
satisfied,  not  only  that  her  emotion  was  unfeigned 
but  also  that  she  was  not  endeavoring  to  conceal  any 
thing  from  him. 

Hope  had  been  in  fine  spirits  at  luncheon,  she  said, 
and  they  had  talked  of  a  dozen  things — Lucia's  recent 
trip  abroad,  clothes,  mutual  acquaintances,  both  men 
and  girls,  fheir  plans  for  the  summer.  She  had  teased 
Hope  about  -two  or  three  men,  but  Hope  had  merely 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  laughed.  "I'd  be  lone 
some,  Lucia,"  she  had  said,  "if  some  one  wasn't  anx 
ious  to  pet  me;  but  marriage!  I  haven't  seen  the 
man  I'd  marry  yet,  not  for  a  farm."  When  they 
parted,  it  was  with  an  arrangement  to  see  each  other 
the  next  afternoon,  and  Hope  had  given  not  the  slight 
est  suggestion  of  anything  unusual  on  hand.  She  had 
said  something  about  going  to  the  tailor's,  and  pos 
sibly  doing  a  bit  of  shopping  before  she  went  home; 
that  was  all. 

Answering  apparently  without  reserve  all  his  ques 
tions  regarding  every  man  who  could  by  any  stretch 
of  imagination  be  classed  as  a  suitor  of  Hope's,  Lucia 
divulged  nothing  that  Higby  could  properly  term  a 
lead.  And,  although  she  was  obviously  skeptical  of 
his  elopement  theory  she  was  almost  pathetically  eager 
to  aid  in  any  way  the  clearing  up  of  the  girl's  mys 
terious  disappearance. 

In  the  end,  the  lawyer  had  to  admit  that  he  had 


28  SWALLOWED  UP 

erred  in  believing  the  affair  would  lend  itself  to  so  easy 
a  solution.  If  the  missing  girl  had  gone  away  deliber 
ately,  she  certainly  had  breathed  no  hint  of  her  in 
tention  to  her  closest  friend  and  intimate. 

This  left  Higby  no  recourse  except  to  appeal  to  the 
police;  and  here  he  proved  himself,  on  one  score  at 
least,  a  true  prophet.  The  five  thousand  dollars  re 
ward  he  offered  furnished  all  the  incentive  required 
to  set  the  department  going  at  full  steam. 

Within  twelve  hours  the  movements  of  Hope 
Ranger  were  known  to  a  certainty  from  the  time  she 
left  her  father's  door  at  twenty-five  minutes  after 
twelve  until  a  quarter  past  three  that  afternoon. 

Leaving  home,  she  had  walked  down  the  east  side 
of  the  Avenue.  At  fifteen  minutes  to  one  o'clock, 
she  had  stopped  at  a  florist's  and  bought  a  gardenia. 
Then  she  had  crossed  at  Fifty-ninth  Street  and  met 
her  friends  at  the  Plaza,  had  gone  with  Lucia  Thorne 
into  the  dining-room,  remained  there  an  hour,  and 
left  the  Thornes  at  ten  minutes  past  two.  At  half 
after  two,  she  had  bought  a  veil  in  a  millinery  and 
dressmaking  establishment  on  Fifty-seventh  Street, 
and  had  been  recognized  and  called  by  name  by  the 
saleswoman.  She  had  then  looked  at  hats,  and  had 
been  urged  by  another  saleswoman  to  try  on  some  of 
them.  She  had  laughed  and  said  she  had  not  the 
time,  but  would  be  in  again  with  her  mother  in  a  day 
or  two.  Without  stopping  to  look  at  anything  else, 
she  had  left  the  shop.  From  there  she  had  gone  to  a 


SWALLOWED  UP  29 

bookstore  and  asked  for  a  book  which  she  had  previ 
ously  ordered.  She  had  had  this  charged  to  her 
father's  account,  hesitated  a  moment  before  a  table 
of  magazines  and  then  passed  through  the  door  and 
into  the  street  again. 

During  this  entire  time,  according  to  all  reports, 
she  was  always  alone  and  quite  her  normal  self. 

She  was  next  seen  at  the  soda-water  counter  of  a 
fruit-and-sweets  shop,  where  she  ordered  a  maple 
sundae.  It  was  then  exactly  ten  minutes  after  three, 
the  clerk  being  able  to  fix  the  time  so  definitely  from 
the  fact  that  just  after  he  had  set  Miss  Ranger's  order 
before  her,  a  disturbance  had  been  created  by  a  cus 
tomer  at  the  cashier's  desk  over  a  question  of  correct 
change.  The  altercation  had  become  so  heated  that 
the  manager  of  the  place  had  been  summoned. 

Miss  Ranger,  like  every  one  else  in  the  shop,  had 
turned  to  watch  the  incident,  and  then,  when  it  had 
been  settled,  she  finished  her  sundae  and  went  out. 

And  from  that  point,  the  investigators  ran  into  a 
blank  wall.  Silcott,  the  tailor,  was  just  round  the  cor 
ner  from  the  fruit-and-sweets  shop,  but  she  had  not 
gone  there;  everybody  about  the  place  from  the  pro 
prietor  to  the  door  man  was  positive  on  that  point. 
She  certainly  did  not  go  home.  Where,  then,  did 
she  go?" 

After  four  days  of  assiduous  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  Police  Department,  aided  now  by  an  army  of  pri 
vate  detectives,  no  clue  had  been  unearthed  to  indicate 


30  SWALLOWED  UP 

what  had  become  of  her  or  whither  she  had  gone. 

Mrs.  Ranger  was  by  this  time  under  the  care  of 
physicians,  ill  from  grief  and  worry;  and  her  hus 
band,  his  face  lined  and  haggard,  his  straight  shoulders 
bowed,  looked  twenty  years  older.  Even  Eustace 
Higby  showed  the  effects  of  the  strain. 

In  desperation  they  decided  to  make  the  facts  public, 
and  every  newspaper  in  the  country  was  filled  with 
descriptions  of  the  missing  girl.  Reporters  by  the 
dozens  and  amateur  investigators  by  the  hundreds  fol 
lowed  the  trail  from  the  Ranger  house  to  the  florist's, 
from  the  hotel  to  the  millinery  shop,  thence  to  the 
bookstore  and  on  to  the  soda-water  counter. 

There  they  stopped,  unable  to  go  further. 

Out  from  that  fruit  shop,  Hope  Ranger  had  stepped 
into  the  broad  daylight  of  a  mid-afternoon  in 
April,  and  there  on  crowded  Fifth  Avenue,  had  van 
ished — disappeared  as  utterly  as  the  flame  of  a  candle 
blown  out  by  a  puff  of  wind. 


CHAPTER  IV 

RANGER'S  pipes  are  known  all  over  the  world. 
Buy  a  pipe — clay,  calabash,  meerschaum, 
brier-root  or  what-not,  and  in  whatever  part 
of  the  globe — and  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that, 
"Ranger  &  Co.,  Makers,""  will  be  found  stamped  on  it. 

The  factory  and  salesrooms  occupy  a  block  on 
Seventh  Avenue  near  Fourteenth  Street,  and  there,  as  a 
matter  of  habit,  Ranger  continued  to  go  daily  in  the 
attempt  to  win  some  surcease  from  anxiety  by  absorb 
ing  himself  in  the  accustomed  routine. 

But  in  the  weeks  succeeding  the  disappearance  of 
his  daughter,  the  interviews  with  factory  executives 
and  alert  traveling  salesmen  had  grown  perceptibly 
shorter.  His  time  was  now  almost  exclusively  given 
up  to  long  conferences  with  the  men  who  were  con 
ducting  the  search. 

The  piles  of  shipping  lists  and  invoices  on  his  desk 
had  given  way  to  typewritten  reports  from  various 
detective  agencies,  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  size  of 
the  expense  accounts  attached  thereto. 

Many  a  down-at-the-heels  shadowing  concern  had 
cause  to  bless  the  name  of  Hope  Ranger  that  summer ; 
for  the  merest  hint  of  a  clue,  no  matter  how  vague  or 
visionary,  was  usually  enough  to  secure  Ranger's  at- 


32  SWALLOWED  UP 

tention.  In  those  haunts  along  Broadway  where  the 
sleuths  slink  in  and  out  like  big  black  cockroaches 
among  the  butterfly  swarms  of  actors  and  actresses, 
"walking  the  weary,"  the  millionaire  pipe  manufac 
turer  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  exaggerated 
meal-ticket. 

So  ready  was  he  to  listen  to  every  wild  story  or  sug 
gestion  offered  him  that  it  had  been  found  necessary 
to  post  guards  before  his  office  door  to  protect  him 
from  the  invasion  of  cranks  and  impostors. 

The  gentlemen  who  had  forsaken  wire-tapping,  the 
sale  of  wildcat  oil  stock  and  other  similar  pursuits  to 
chance  this  new  and  lucrative  game,  together  with  the 
fortune-tellers,  mediums,  clairvoyants  and  plain 
"bugs,"  suddenly  found  themselves  halted  by  stern 
investigators  and  forced  to  state  their  business  in  em- 
barassing  detail. 

Thus,  one  morning,  Number  One  of  the  cordon  per 
emptorily  halted  a  caller  who  had  attempted  to  stroll 
by  him,  and  who  now,  with  too  much  assurance  to  be 
pleasing  said  that  he  wished  to  see  "Ranger." 

The  off-hand  manner,  as  well  as  the  lack  of  the  prefix 
of  "Mister,"  annoyed  the  guard.  Neither  did  he  find 
the  stranger's  appearance  prepossessing.  Dark,  lean, 
his  clothes  unpressed,  his  hat  tilted,  the  man  swag 
gered  before  him. 

"Ranger,  eh?" — with  heavy  sarcasm.  "Well,  I 
got  to  tell  you  that  the  boss  is  busy  this  morning  and 
can't  see  nobody — even  you." 


SWALLOWED  UP  33 

The  visitor  shifted  his  hat  to  another  and  more  dis 
reputable  angle,  took  an  old  pipe  from  his  pocket  and 
began  to  fill  it. 

"You're  new  here,  my  lad;  that's  plain.  But,  if 
you're  in  doubt  take  my  name,  either  to  Frank  Bryan  or 
Loring  himself."  He  closed  his  sack  of  tobacco  by 
pulling  the  strings  together  with  his  teeth.  "Sorry  I 
left  my  card-case  in  my  evening  clothes." 

The  guard  scowled,  but  wavered  in  his  decision  to 
throw  the  man  out.  He  trusted  his  own  impressions 
more  than  he  did  this  airy  certainty  of  welcome.  Yet 
the  fellow  seemed  so  confoundedly  sure. 

He  covered  his  hesitation  with  truculent  repartee. 

"Well,  s'posin'  I  do?  Who  shall  I  say  it  is  that 
wants  the  boss — Lloyd  George  or  Herbert  Hoover?" 

"Neither."  The  man  flicked  a  raveling  from  his 
sleeve.  "He'll  probably  see  me  quicker  if  you  give  it 
to  him  straight.  Just  say,  my  good  man,  that  Juarez 
Charlie  is  here." 

Juarez  Charlie!  In  the  face  of  such  a  designation, 
Number  One  felt  his  original  estimate  of  the  man  fully 
justified.  And  yet  there  was  something  in  that  dark, 
obscure  glance,  in  the  jeering  smile  on  the  glib  mouth 
that  overrode  his  settled  judgment.  Uncertainly  he 
scratched  his  jaw. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  I'll  take  a  chance  on  you," 
he  finally  decided.  "You  ain't  so  much  worse  than  a 
lot  I've  had  to  let  get  by.  But  listen  here — "  with  a 


34  SWALLOWED  UP 

return  of  authority — "if  I  get  in  wrong,  you'd  better 
not  wait.  I'm  coming  back,  and  if  they  don't  want 
you,  I'll  just  naturally  wipe  up  the  street  with  you." 

"That's  a  bet."  The  other  was  still  nonchalant. 
"And  don't  waste  any  more  time.  Loring  will  be  real 
peevish  if  I  tell  him  how  you've  been  holding  me  up 
out  here.  Be  sure  and  repeat  the  name  right,  too. 
It's  Juarez  Charlie,  with  the  'm'  silent  as  in  soup.  Get 
that,  Clarence?" 

"Fresh  guy,  ain't  you?"  growled  the  guard,  but 
nevertheless  started  away,  muttering  resentfully, 
"Plain  crook  every  inch  of  him."  As  he  came  into  the 
presence  of  Ranger's  private  secretary,  Frank  Bryan, 
the  impulse  that  had  led  him  to  take  in  the  name  of  the 
rakish  visitor  weakened,  and«he  stood  shuffling  his  feet, 
uncertain  what  to  say. 

"Well?"  asked  Bryan,  without  looking  up  from  his 
desk. 

• 

"Mr.  Bryan,  sir,  there's  a — a  party  out  there,  that 
wants  to  see  Mr.  Ranger." 

"A  party?"  Bryan  glanced  up  with  annoyed  re 
buke.  "What  sort  of  way  is  that  to  announce  any 
body?  Didn't  he  give  you  his  name?" 

"Not  exactly  a  name.  He  said  to  tell  you  or  Mr. 
Ranger  that  Juarez  Charlie " 

"Juarez  Charlie!"  the  secretary  snapped.  "Why 
didn't  you  say  so?  Show  him  into  the  private  office  at 
once." 

The  bewildered  guard  returned  to  his  post. 


SWALLOWED  UP  35 

"This  way,  mister,"  he  beckoned  with  disgruntled 
civility. 

"Quite  a  shock,  wasn't  it,  Cuthbert?  Axiom:  It 
takes  a  gentleman  to  know  a  gentleman.  So  I  forgive 
you. 

"Never  mind."  He  waved  Number  One  aside.  "I 
know  the  way." 

He  passed  on,  a  privileged  character,  exchanging  a 
word  or  two  with  different  employes  in  the  outer 
office  and  nodding  familiarly  to  others;  for,  rolling- 
stone  adventurer  though  he  was,  grafter  and  swindler 
as  he  was  suspected  of  being,  Juarez  Charlie  was  wel 
come  here  to  come  and  go  as  he  pleased. 

He  and  Loring  Ranger  had  been  boys  together. 
They  had  started  in  at  the  same  time  in  the  shipping- 
room  of  this  very  factory;  but  whereas  the  one  had 
risen  step  by  step  until  he  became  the  controlling  head 
of  the  company,  and  by  the  development  of  his  genius 
had  vastly  broadened  and  enlarged  its  activities,  the 
other,  driven  by  wanderlust  and  an  ineradicable  strain 
of  vagrancy,  had  soon  drifted  out.  Yet,  in  spite  of  the 
gulf  of  circumstance  between  them,  their  early  friend 
ship  still  held. 

More  than  once  the  successful  manufacturer  had 
urged  his  old  associate  to  take  a  position  with  him, 
offering  Charlie  his  choice  either  inside  the  factory  or 
on  the  road ;  for  it  was  Ranger's  firm  belief  that  the 
vagabond,  if  he  would  only  devote  himself  to  it,  would 
make  an  incomparable  salesman. 


36  SWALLOWED  UP 

But  Charlie  always  evaded  these  efforts  at  rehabil 
itation. 

"I  couldn't  breathe  in  a  settled  job,"  he  would  say. 
"I  must  have  air,  more  air,  change,  variety,  excitement, 
freedom  from  responsibility.  This  is  my  native  ele 
ment,  and  deprived  of  it,  I'd  gasp,  flop  and  die.  As  it 
is,  I  drink  the  wine  of  life,  roaming  where  I  choose 
and  exercising  my  especial  gifts." 

His  especial  gifts  were  various;  perhaps  the  less 
said  about  them  the  better.  He  employed  them  when 
he  felt  like  it  and  when  opportunity  offered;  loafed 
when  he  felt  like  it;  traveled  constantly  about  the 
country — sometimes  first-class,  sometimes  in  the  com 
pany  of  yeggs  and  hoboes — boasted  that  he  had  a  more 
comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  United  States  than 
any  other  man  within  its  borders,  and  regarded  life  on 
the  whole  with  a  cynical,  good-humored  philosophy 
which  no  exigency  could  daunt  or  misfortune  over 
whelm. 

But  the  careless,  impudent  smile  he  habitually  wore 
died,  his  dark  face  softened,  as  he  entered  the  private 
office  and  saw  the  change  which  the  burden  of  these 
torturing  weeks  had  wrought  in  his  old  friend.  He 
could  hardly  believe  for  a  moment  that  it  was  really 
Loring  Ranger — this  bowed,  melancholy  man  who 
raised  his  eyes  with  a  gleam  of  hope  at  the  sound  of  an 
unaccustomed  step,  and  then  when  he  saw  who  it  was, 
muttered  a  perfunctory  welcome  and  turned  his  brood 
ing  gaze  again  to  the  window. 


SWALLOWED  UP  37 

There  was  an  unwonted  tug  of  sympathy  at 
Charlie's  wrinkled  heart,  and  on  a  sudden  impulse  he 
stepped  over  and  laid  his  hand  on  Ranger's  shoulder. 

"Tough  luck,  Lorry !"  he  said  huskily.  "But  don't 
give  way  like  this,  old  boy.  Brace  up ;  it  isn't — it  isn't 
as  if  your  little  girl  were  gone  for  good." 

The  friendly  touch,  the  sincerity  of  feeling  in  his 
tone  brought  an  unexpected  response.  A  tremor  ran 
through  the  manufacturer's  bent  frame;  then,  with  a 
groan,  he  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"It's  no  use,  Charlie."  His  voice  came  brokenly. 
"No  use  to  try  and  deceive  myself.  She  is  gone  for 
good." 

He  turned  away  to  hide  his  working  face,  then 
twisted  round  and  began  to  talk  rapidly.  Here  at 
last  was  some  one  to  whom  he  could  lay  bare  all  that 
was  in  his  mind. 

"She  is  dead,"  he  said.  "Anything  else  is  unthink 
able.  Of  course  I  am  going  through  the  motions  of 
keeping  up  a  search,  but  that  is  chiefly  for  the  sake  of 
my  wife.  For  myself,  I'm  not  expecting  to — to  see 
Hope  again.  But — "  his  face  grew  livid — "I'll  spend 
my  last  cent  in  running  down  the  evidence  and  landing 
those —  God !  I  can't  speak ;  I  don't  dare  even  think 
of  them!" 

He  dragged  himself  together  with  an  effort  that 
was  painful  to  witness. 

"Look  at  the  facts,  Charlie.  Look  at  the  facts. 
It's  a  month  yesterday  since  Hope  went  away — was 


3  8  SWALLOWED  UP 

taken  away,  I  mean — and  in  all  that  time  not  a  word 
from  her — not  a  word  of  her.  Only  this  horrible 
silence — like  a  thick  black  curtain  meeting  me  every 
where  I  turn. 

"They've  tried  to  tell  me  that  she  went  away  of  her 
self,  and  is  keeping  quiet,  so  we  won't  know  where 
she  is."  His  words  were  pouring  out  now;  he  was 
letting  go  all  the  reticence  and  self-command  he  had  so 
sternly  imposed  on  himself.  And  the  other  man  made 
no  attempt  to  stop  him,  encouraged  him,  instead,  by 
his  compassionate  attention,  to  loose  this  dammed-up 
flood  of  emotion. 

"That's  what  they  try  to  tell  me ;  but  I  know  better." 
Ranger  brought  his  hand  down  on  the  desk.  "It's  a 
lie !  No  matter  what  she  had  done,  where  she  had 
gone,  Hope  would  know  that  she'd  be  welcomed  back. 
And  it  wasn't  in  her,  sensitive  and  tender-hearted  as 
she  was,  to  resist  the  appeals  we  have  made  in  the  news 
papers  when  she  could  relieve  us  by  a  single  word. 

"Why,  Charlie,  we've  done  things  that  make  me 
ashamed  to  think  of  them.  We  haven't  trusted  our 
own  impressions  and  knowledge  of  her.  We've  had 
that  young  girl's  life  raked  over  as  if  she  had  been  a 
criminal.  We've  had  her  friends  and  acquaintances 
put  through  a  regular  third  degree — even  shadowed 
some  of  the  men  she  saw  the  most  of.  This  or  that 
lead — anything  that  could  furnish  a  possible  excuse 
for  her  to  leave  home — has  been  followed  up.  And 
not  a  thing  has  been  discovered  that  didn't  show  her 


SWALLOWED  UP  39 

heart-whole,  contented,  without  secret  fads  or  mental 
quirks  of  any  kind. 

"She  was  abducted,  of  course."  He  dropped  his 
hands  despairingly  over  the  arms  of  his  chair.  "I 
don't  know  how,  but  some  way.  There,  on  Fifth 
Avenue — without  an  outcry,  without  a  struggle!" 

Evidently  his  mind  was  traversing  the  field  of  puz 
zled  conjecture  through  which  he  had  so  often  wan 
dered  before  to  no  destination. 

"If  any  one  had  told  her  that  her  mother  or  I  were 
dying,"  he  hazarded,  "and  that  there  was  a  cab  there 
to  take  her  home  or  elsewhere,  she'd  have  walked  back 
into  that  fruit  shop  and  telephoned.  She  knew  too 
much  to  be  caught  that  way.  We  didn't  bring  her  up 
in  any  silly  ignorance  of  the  ways  of  the  world. 

"And  who  did  it?  Enemies?  She  hadn't  one  on 
earth.  I  have  a  few  like  any  other  successful  man; 
but  they're  all  the  sort  that  damn  me  when  they  hear 
my  name  and  let  it  go  at  that.  They're  sane.  Only  a 
crazy  man  would  take  such  a  devil's  revenge. 

"The  white-slaver  theory  has  been  advanced,"  he 
ran  on.  "But  those  vermin  would  never  take  such  a 
chance.  Too  many  less  conspicuous  girls  whose  dis 
appearance  wouldn't  create  much  comment. 

"And  then  the  reward.  A  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Why  doesn't  somebody  claim  it?  Or  even  ask  a 
higher  ransom?  A  month  has  passed,  and  I've  held 
myself  open  to  every  sort  of  communication;  but  no 
demand  has  been  made  upon  me. 


40  SWALLOWED  UP 

"No,"  his  tormented  brain  reasoned  back  to  his  first 
conclusion;  "she  is  dead.  Perhaps  killed  in  an  attempt 
to  escape.  Perhaps  succumbing  on  their  hands  from 
the  shock  and  terror  of  it  all.  But  certainly  dead. 

"And  that's  the  awfulness  of  it!"  He  buried  his 
face  in  his  handkerchief.  "If  we  had  laid  her  in  her 
grave,  I  would  grieve  for  her,  but  I  could  still  bear  up. 
But  this  nightmare  of  uncertainty,  the  horrible  pos 
sibilities " 

Unnoticed  by  him  in  his  agitation,  Juarez  Charlie 
had  risen  from  his  seat,  and  now  stood  close  beside 
him. 

"But  it's  all  a  mistake,  Lorry,"  he  whispered  tensely, 
gripping  Ranger  firmly  by  the  shoulder.  "Your 
daughter  is  not  dead.  That  is  the  message  I  was  in 
structed  to  bring  you.  I  was  to  tell  you  that  she  is 
alive  and  well." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  news  came  too  suddenly.  Ranger's 
brain  recorded  the  words  but  could  not  assim 
ilate  them.  He  had  so  gripped  the  convic 
tion  that  Hope  was  dead  with  every  tentacle  of  his 
mind  that  he  could  not  discard  it  immediately  for  this 
new,  reversing  statement. 

His  bewildered  stare  wavered,  gave  way  suddenly 
to  a  light  that  leaped  to  his  eyes  and  flashed  over  his 
face. 

"What?  What?"  His  fingers  bit  into  the  flesh  of 
Juarez  Charlie's  arm.  "You're  mad!"  He  was  try 
ing  to  protect  himself  from  a  disappointment  he  could 
not  face.  "You're  mad!"  he  repeated. 

Charlie  wriggled  free. 

"I'm  giving  you  the  message  exactly  as  I  got  it," 
he  said  soothingly  but  insistently.  "Where  your 
daughter  is,  I  don't  know,  Lorry,  or  how  to  reach  her. 
I  have  merely  the  word  that  she  is  alive  and  well.  It 
may  be  wrong,  but  I  don't  believe  it." 

"But  tell  me,  tell  me — how  did  you  hear?  Who 
gave  you  this  message?"  Ranger  stood  up,  too 
shaken  nervously  to  sit  still.  "Where  did  it  come 
from?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  that.     I  don't  know  myself." 

"Don't  know?" — indignant,  astonished  reproach  in 


42  SWALLOWED  UP 

the  exclamation.  "But  that's  idiocy!  If  you're  not 
crazy,  for  heaven's  sake  explain."  He  began  to  plead, 
but  broke  off  abruptly.  "Oh,  I  see!"  he  muttered,  his 
eyes  narrowing.  "It  is  a  case  of  nothing  for  nothing. 
Well—  '  turning  with  thinly  veiled  contempt  to  the 
check-book  lying  on  his  desk — "I'm  willing  to  pay  if 
your  information  is  authentic.  Name  your  price  and 
let's  get  down  to  business." 

Juarez  Charlie  got  up,  twirling  his  hat  on  his  finger. 

"I  don't  think  I  deserve  that  of  you,  Ranger.  I've 
never  grafted  a  penny  off  you  yet,  and  F<m  certainly 
not  going  to  begin  now  on  the  strength  of  your  being 
in  trouble.  I  came  here  to  do  you  a  favor  and  relieve 
your  mind;  but  since  you  see  it  only  as  a  plant  to  try 
and  bleed  you " 

"Now,  now,  Charlie!"  Ranger  laid  hasty  hands  on 
him  to  drag  him  back  from  the  door.  "I  apologize. 
I  had  no  desire  to  insult  you.  Consider  the  state  of 
mind  I'm  in." 

"Fair  enough."  Charlie  sat  down  again.  "I  sup 
pose  you're  hardly  to  be  blamed,  with  every  come-on 
artist  in  the  country  trying  to  shake  you  down.  But, 
honest,  Lorry,  I've  told  you  all  I  know.  I  couldn't  do 
any  more  if  you  were  to  slip  me  your  entire  wad,  pipe 
factory  and  all." 

While  he  talked,  he  had  produced  a  wisp  of  paper 
and  his  little  sack  of  tobacco,  and  was  busying  himself 
in  rolling  a  cigarette.  Now,  as  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips  to 
moisten  the  edge  of  the  paper  with  his  tongue,  he  spoke 


SWALLOWED  UP  43 

quickly,  guardedly,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"Is  there  any  chance  of  our  being  overheard  here? 
In  a  minute  or  two,  step  to  that  door  and  make  sure 
there's  no  one  listening  to  us.  Not  as  if  you  were 
looking  for  anybody,  you  understand,  but  in  a  natural 
way.  Make  an  excuse  that  you  want  something  out 
side  or  that  it's  stuffy  in  here — anything  of  the  sort." 

Ranger  twisted  his  mouth  impatiently  at  the  idea  of 
such  an  absurd  precaution;  but,  willing  to  humor  any 
caprice  so  long  as  Charlie  was  induced  to  talk,  he  nod 
ded  an  assent. 

So,  a  moment  or  two  later,  as  he  paced  back  and 
forth  across  the  floor,  he  suddenly  flung  open  the  door 
leading  out  of  the  office  and  almost  knocked  over  his 
private  secretary.  The  latter  only  saved  himself  by  a 
dexterous  backward  jump. 

"Why,  Bryan!"  Ranger  stared  at  him.  "What  are 
you  doing  here?" 

The  secretary  almost  instantly  recovered  both  his 
physical  and  mental  balance. 

"I  was  just  about  to  knock,"  he  said,  coming  forward 
in  his  usual  deferential  fashion.  "Inspector  Bailey 
has  telephoned  that  they  have  another  girl  they 
would  like  you  to  look  at.  An  aphasia  victim,  they 
found  wandering  round  Washington  Square  this 
morning." 

"An  aphasia  victim?"  Ranger's  eyes  glinted  with 
the  reawakened  hope  so  many  times  dashed  in  the 
last  few  weeks  by  similar  calls  upon  him  for  identi- 


44  SWALLOWED  UP 

fication.  "Certainly."  He  snatched  up  his  hat.  "I'll 
go  right  down.  Does  the  inspector  really  think  it 
could  possibly  be  Hope?" 

But  Juarez  Charlie  threw  himself  in  his  way  as  he 
was  hurrying  toward  the  door. 

"Now,  look  here,  Lorry,"  he  drawled,  "what's  the 
use  of  getting  yourself  all  excited  over  what's  only 
another  false  alarm?  This  girl  is  no  more  your 
daughter  than  I  am,  and  I'll  bet  my  roll  to  a  worn- 
out  banana-peel  on  it.  If  somebody  has  to  go 
down  and  give  her  the  once-over,  let  Bryan  there 
do  it.  I  want  you  to  come  out  with  me  and  buy  a 
hat." 

"Buy  a  hat?" 

"Yes;  that  was  part  of  the  message  I  was  instructed 
to  give  you,  but  I  hadn't  come  to  it  yet,  you  kept 
breaking  in  on  me  so." 

"A  part  of  the  message?"  Ranger  eyed  him  doubt 
fully.  Was  the  man  daft? 

"Sure!"  Charlie  nodded.  "I  was  to  say  to  you, 
'Hope  is  alive  and  well ;  send  her  a  hat.'  ' 

The  private  secretary  turned  with  a  start. 

"Hope?"  he  exclaimed.  "Do  you  mean  to  say, 
Juarez,  that  you  have  news  of  her?" 

"Just  -what  you  heard."  Charlie's  habitual  non 
chalance  was  a  bit  stressed.  "I  was  told  to  tell  Loring 
here  that  his  daughter  was  alive  and  well  and  that  he 
was  to  send  her  a  new  hat." 

"Yes;  but  who  told  you?"  demanded  the  secretary 


SWALLOWED  UP  45 

excitedly.  "Didn't  you  hold  the  messenger?  If  we 
can  make  him  talk 

"Exactly."  Charlie  slanted  his  eyebrows  in  an 
ironical  grimace.  "If!  But  as  I've  been  trying  to 
explain  to  the  boss,  Frank,  I've  no  more  idea  who  sent 
that  message  than  I  have  of  who  invented  apple  pie. 
All  I  can  tell  you  is  that  I  found  it  chalked  up  on  the 
front  stoop  of  my  boarding-house  when  I  came  out 
this  morning,  with  no  signature  or  mark  of  any  kind 
to  let  me  know  where  it  came  from." 

"But  it  should  be  photographed  and  preserved  by 
all  means,"  declared  Bryan.  "A  competent  hand 
writing  expert  might " 

Charlie  gave  a  derisive  chuckle. 

"A  handwriting  expert  would  be  sunk  on  this  job 
before  he  began,  Frank.  It  was  done  in  hobo  language 
— the  kind  of  signs  you  see  marked  up  on  box-cars 
and  fences  and  freight-houses  and  the  sides  of  barns 
when  you  are  out  on  the  road." 

"Oh-h!"  Bryan's  tone  indicated  that  for  him  the 
matter  was  dismissed.  He  turned  to  Ranger.  "The 
sort  of  stuff  we  are  getting  constantly  from  cranks 
and  notoriety  seekers.  This  is  probably  some  yegg- 
man's  idea  of  a  joke." 

"No,"  disputed  Charlie;  "because  of  that  part  about 
the  hat." 

"The  part  about  the  hat?  Why,  that's  the  very 
thing  that  clinches  it  as  absurd,"  sneered  Bryan. 
"Would  Miss  Ranger  be  likely  in  a  communication  of 


46  SWALLOWED  UP 

this  sort  to  ask  her  father  for  a  hat?  I'm  surprised, 
Juarez,  at  a  fellow  of  your  shrewdness  taking  any 
stock  in  such  an  obvious  fake." 

"Oh,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  anything  but  a  pitiable 
moron,"  disclaimed  Charlie  modestly;  "and  you  are 
possibly  quite  right  when  you  say  that  Miss  Ranger 
would  never  think  of  asking  for  a  hat.  Still,  I  .can 
see  how  a  thing  of  the  kind  might  come  in  very  handy 
to  the  folks  who  have  got  her.  How  so,  you  ask? 
Well,  this  way:  Suppose  they'd  send  back  a  photo 
graph  of  her  with  that  hat  on?  It  would  be  pretty 
good  proof — wouldn't  it? — that  she  was  just  what 
they  said  she  was,  alive  and  well — about  as  good  proof 
as  anybody  would  want. 

"So  that's  why  I  say,"  he  observed  pointedly,  "that 
you'd  better  be  chasing  down  to  headquarters,  if  any 
body  is  to  go,  and  leave  Loring  to  attend  to  this  more 
likely  lead  and  get  the  hat  on  its  way  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Saves  now,  Frank?" 

"That's  my  opinion,  too,"  nodded  Ranger,  with  an 
intimation  not  to  be  misunderstood,  and  the  secretary, 
merely  saying  that  he  would  look  into  the  matter  of 
the  girl  at  police  headquarters  at  once,  left  the  room. 

Juarez  Charlie,  rolling  another  cigarette,  perched 
himself  in  the  window  and  smoked  until  from  his  eyry 
he  saw  Bryan  come  out  of  the  building  and  disappear 
in  a  subway  entrance  at  Fourteenth  Street. 

"I've  never  got  that  fellow's  number  exactly,"  he 
muttered  as  he  flipped  the  cigarette  butt  down  to  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  47 

street  below  and  turned  back  toward  the  desk. 
"Chances  are  he's  only  a  bit  curious,  but —  Any 
how,  I  feel  safer  to  have  him  out  of  the  way. 

"And  now,  if  you'll  set  that  door  open,  Loring,  so 
that  I  can  see  if  anybody  else  comes  circulating  around, 
I'll  shake  down  a  few  things  that  I've  been  holding  up 
my  sleeve." 

He  paused  a  moment  as  if  hesitating  just  how  to 
begin;  then,  leaning  forward,  he  spoke  in  a  voice  so 
carefully  lowered  that  it  was  hardly  more  than  a 
whisper. 

"Lorry,  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  is  known  to 
every  'gun'  and  grafter  and  worker  in  the  so-called 
underworld,  big  or  little ;  but  it's  mighty  seldom  spoken 
of  even  among  themselves.  The  police  don't  know  it. 
All  they  get  on  to  is  what  their  stool-pigeons  tell  'em, 
and  it  would  have  to  be  a  nervier  snitch  than  any  I've 
ever  seen  that  would  dare  breathe  this  to  a  cop. 

"I'm  running  the  biggest  risk  of  my  life  in  tipping 
you  off."  The  serious  set  of  his  devil-may-care  face, 
the  drawn  lines  about  his  mouth,  showed  that  he  had 
no  doubts  on  this  score.  "And,  although  I've  had 
my  suspicions  right  along,  I  wouldn't  come  to  you 
until  I  was  absolutely  certain.  But  now  I'm  going 
through  with  it — if  it's  the  last  thing  I  ever  do. 

"Loring — "  he  drew  a  long  breath  like  a  swimmer 
about  to  make  a  dive,  then  brought  his  words  out  with 
a  rush — "your  daughter,  I'm  sorry  to  tell  you,  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  'Combine.'  " 


48  SWALLOWED  UP 

"The  'Combine'?"  repeated  Ranger. 

"Sh,"  Charlie  cautioned.     "Not  so  loud." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  the  'Combine'?"  Ran 
ger  persisted,  although  he  somewhat  impatiently  low 
ered  his  tone. 

"Just  what  you'd  imagine.  An  inside  bunch  that 
runs  things — the  same  as  in  politics  or  finance." 

"Are  you  trying  to  tell  me — "  Ranger  showed  his 
skepticism — "that  crime  has  become  an  organized  thing 
in  this  city  controlled  and  directed  by  a  board 
or  group  such  as  you  describe?" 

Charlie  nodded  vehemently. 

"Not  only  in  this  city  but  all  over  the  country,"  he 
declared.  "Don't  you  read  the  newspapers?  Look 
at  -the  frequent  robberies  on  a  big  scale,  not  money 
and  securities  alone,  but  jewels,  silks,  furs,  merchandise 
in  car-load  lots.  How  could  plunder  of  that  sort  be 
disposed  of  unless  there  was  an  organization  to  manage 
it?  That's  the  Combine,  and  it  runs  the  whole  show. 

"Ah,  you  still  don't  believe  me?"  as  Ranger  gave 
a  contemptuous  sniff.  "Well,  you  just  pick  out  the 
most  God-forsaken  cross-roads  you  can  think  of,  and 
go  there  to  try  and  work  it  on  your  own  hook,  and 
see  where  you  come  out." 

"Then,  if  a  pocket  is  picked  in  Omaha,  or  a  grocery 
store  robbed  in  Lansing,  Michigan,  it  has  all  been 
planned  and  directed  by  a  central  bureau  here  in  New 
York?  Rot.  Why,  Charlie,  such  a  thing— 

"No,  no,  Lorry;  you  don't  get  me.     I'm  not  saying 


SWALLOWED  UP  49 

that  the  jobs  are  planned  and  ordered  from  here — 
that  is,  none  except  the  big  ones.  It's  like  — well,  it's 
a  good  deal  like  the  way  things  used  to  be  in  Wall 
Street  when  old  J.  P.  Morgan  was  alive.  He  and 
his  crowd  controlled  the  finances  of  the  country,  didn't 
they?  That  didn't  mean,  of  course,  that  every  time 
some  two-by-four  bank  wanted  to  loan  a  thousand 
dollars  it  had  to  write  in  and  ask  Morgan;  but  it  did 
mean  that  all  the  banks,  big  and  little,  had  to  play  into 
his  hand  and  that  any  time  he  wanted  them  he  had  only 
to  whistle." 

"The  so-called  money  trust,  that  we  used  to  hear 
so  much  about."  Ranger  nodded  reminiscently. 
"And  you  want  to  claim  there  is  an  organizing  genius 
of  the  sort  among  the  criminals?" 

"A  bigger  man  in  his  way  than  Morgan  ever  dared 
to  be,"  affirmed  Charlie. 

"But  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  managed,"  frowned 
Ranger;  he  was  taking  Charlie's  statements  a  shade 
more  seriously.  "Banks  have  fixed  places  of  doing 
business  and  men  of  responsibility  in  charge.  Any 
body,  though,  might  set  up  as  a  crook — Tom,  Dick 
or  Harry.  How,  then,  is  it  possible  for  this  'Com 
bine,'  as  you  call  it,  to  exercise  control?" 

"Easy.  As  you  say,  anybody  might  'rip  a  pete' — 
crack  a  safe,  I  mean — or  do  a  job  of  porch-climbing; 
but  don't  forget,  Loring,  that  the  stuff  has  to  be  got 
rid  of  after  they  get  it." 

"Oh?     The— what's  the  term— the  'fences,'  eh?" 


50  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Sure.  The  fences  and  the  cops.  That's  where 
the  Combine  gets  its  stranglehold  on  the  business. 
They've  got  the  lowdown  on  every  fence  from  Maine 
to  California,  open  or  secret;  and  woe  be  to  the  one 
that  steps  out  of  line.  Through  the  fences,  too,  they 
control  the  cops;  if  an  outsider  butts  in  or  a  regular 
welshes,  he  is  tipped  off.  So  what  chance  has  a  poor 
'gun'  got?  He  has  to  come  across  with  half  out  of 
every  haul  he  makes  or  quit  the  game." 

"And  the  men  at  the  top  rely  for  safety,  I  suppose, 
on  the  traditional  'honor  among  thieves'  ?" 

"Honor  among  thieves?"  Juarez  Charlie  gave  a 
short  laugh.  "There  ain't  no  such  animal.  Not  on 
your  life,  Loring!  Those  lads  at  the  top  are  like  the 
'man  higher  up'  in  politics.  Even  more  so;  for  there 
must  be  somebody  who  has  a  hold  on  the  'man  higher 
up.'  But  you  can't  even  make  a  guess  at  the  crowd 
in  the  Combine,  especially  the  Big  Noise  who  is  at  the 
head  of  them.  You  can  follow  the  chain  up  through 
the  fences  just  so  far;  then  you  hit  a  blank  wall. 
Orders  after  that  come,  as  I  got  mine  this  morning, 
through  messages  chalked  up  in  hobo  language.  But, 
if  you  know  what's  good  for  you,  those  messages  will 
be  obeyed." 

Ranger  yielded  to  a  growing  conviction  that  there 
was  more  in  this  than  mere  imaginings  or  a  fantastic 
embroidery  on  a  few  unrelated  facts.  Improbable  as 
it  seemed,  there  was  at  least  some  basis  for  Charlie's 
revelation — enough  to  go  on. 


SWALLOWED  UP  51 

"And  you  think,"  his  voice  trembled,  "that  this  inner 
group — this  Combine — have  my  daughter?" 

"I'm  certain  of  it.  It  isn't  often  that  they  pull  off 
anything  on  their  own  account.  But  after  that  message 
I  received—  Well,  that  settles  it  in  my  mind  that  this 
is  one  of  the  times  they've  done  it.  Loring,"  he  spoke 
gravely,  "it's  what  you  called  the  'organizing  genius' 
himself,  that  you're  stacked  up  against  on  this  deal." 


CHAPTER  VI 

RANGER  reached  quickly  for  the  telephone  on 
his  desk;  but  Charlie,  anticipating  his  action, 
seized  it  first. 

"No,  you  don't!"  He  held  the  instrument  tight 
in  both  hands.  "I  can  see  your  mouth  made  up  for 
'Spring,  3100'  as  plain  as  if  you  were  already  calling 
it.  What  I've  told  you  was  for  your  own  information^ 
Loring,  and  not  to  be  passed  on  to  the  police." 

Ranger  made  no  attempt  to  deny  his  purpose. 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  He  blustered  a  bit.  "You'll 
not  prevent  me  by  hanging  on  to  that  phone;  there 
are  others  I  can  use.  Certainly  you  can't  suppose 
that  I'll  be  blocked  from  repeating  what  you've  told 
me  by  any  scruples — regarding  it  as  confidential." 

"Oh,  no."  Charlie  was  frankly  cynical.  "It  isn't 
any  scruples  that'll  hold  you  back;  it's  your  own  com 
mon  sense — as  soon  as  you've  had  a  chance  to  think 
for  a  minute.  Haven't  I  already  told  you  that  this 
crowd  has  the  police — well,  what  a  real-estate  dealer 
would  call,  'firm  in  hand'?" 

Ranger  gave  over  his  attempt  to  use  the  telephone 
and  sank  back  with  a  gesture  of  rebuff. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  He  ran  his  hands  up  through 
his  thick,  gray  hair.  "If  I  don't  report  this  infor 
mation  to  the  police " 

52 


SWALLOWED  UP  53 

"If  you  do,"  Charlie  spoke  sharply,  "you're  done 
for.  Get  that  into  your  head,  Loring.  These  people 
are  under  cover  so  deep  that  there's  about  as  much 
chance  of  a  detective  getting  to  them  as  there  is  of  his 
drilling  into  the  vaults  of  the  National  City  Bank 
with  a  baby's  rattle.  No;  this  isn't  a  case  where  the 
police  can  help  you." 

"Apparently,  it  isn't  a  case  where  anybody  can  help 
me,"  muttered  Ranger  hopelessly. 

"No;  don't  say  that."  Charlie  gave  a  quick  glance 
of  pity  at  the  other's  tormented  face. 

The  unwonted  note  of  sympathy  in  his  grating 
voice  lifted  Ranger  momentarily  from  his  dejection. 
A  faint  smile  of  appreciation  flickered  across  his  lips, 
and  he  pressed  Charlie's  hand. 

"Oh,  you,  of  course.  I  know  that  I  can  always 
count  on  you.  But  what  can  you  and  I  do  alone  ?" 

"What  have  your  cops  and  your  high-priced  de 
tectives  and  the  biggest  reward  ever  offered  done  for 
you?"  the  answer  flashed  back.  "There's  a  chance 
to  get  your  daughter,  as  I  see  it,  Lorry;  but  it'll 
never  be  by  depending  on  the  police.  This  has  got  to 
be  worked  on  a  different  tack.  You  think  I'm  not 
much?"  He  grinned;  nothing  could  long  repress  his 
care-free  spirit.  "Maybe  so.  But  remember,  please, 
that  when  Mr.  Lion  got  all  tangled  up  in  the  net,  it 
was  Friend  Mouse  who  came  along  and  gnawed  him 
free.  That's  the  role  I've  cast  myself  for,  Loring — 
li'l  Mousie." 


54  SWALLOWED  UP 

Through  the  obsession — his  lost  daughter — that 
filled  Ranger's  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  everything 
else,  there  pierced  some  realization  of  what  the  vag 
rant  was  so  lightly  offering — his  life,  perhaps,  if  they 
were  really  pitted  against  so  ruthless  and  formidable 
an  adversary  as  he  described. 

The  matter-of-fact  manufacturer  was  hardly  ready 
to  credit  that  assumption  in  its  entirety,  but  he  could 
not  doubt  that  Juarez  Charlie,  with  far  more  knowl 
edge  than  himself  of  the  characters  and  methods  of 
the  underwork!,  believed  it  implicitly.  And  on  one 
score,  at  least,  Charlie's  reasoning  was  irrefutable— 
the  keenest  detectives  in  the  country  had  failed ;  the 
machinery  of  the  law  had  proved  powerless ;  he  had 
squandered  money  like  water,  and  there  .was  nothing 
to  show  for  it. 

Why  not,  then,  accept  this  generous,  unbought  aid 
tendered  him?  He  would  search  far  to  find  an  ally 
of  quicker  wits  or  a  more  comprehensive  knowledge 
of  criminal  subtleties. 

Ranger's  success  in  life  was  largely  due  to  his  habit 
of  quick  decision.  With  scarcely  a  pause  he  reached 
out  and  gripped  Charlie's  hand  in  a  clasp  that  told 
more  than  he  could  have  expressed  in  an  hour's  speech. 

"Handle  it  your  own  way,  old  man,"  he  said  heartily. 
"I'm  with  you.  I'll  back  you  with  everything  I've 
got." 

"That  will  help— a  little,"  said  Charlie  dryly. 

He  fell  into  a  reverie,  his  dark  face  twisted  up  re- 


SWALLOWED  UP  55 

flectively,  his  yellow  cigarette-stained  fingers  tapping  on 
the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"You  said  a  while  back,"  he  remarked  at  last,  "that 
it  looked  to  you,  Loring,  like  we  were  up  against  a 
blank  wall.  Well,  we  are;  but  there's  one  opening 
in  that  wall,  and  it's  through  the  messages  they'll  send. 
Take  this  hat  we've  been  ordered  to  furnish.  Some 
body's  got  to  get  it  and  carry  it  to  them.  Then,  if 
that  person  is  trailed  and  we  find  out  where  the  hat 
is  delivered,  we'll  be  getting  pretty  warm  to  the  people 
we're  after." 

The  suggestion  seemed  to  Ranger  an  immediate 
solution  of  the  whole  problem,  and  he  was  eager  to 
lose  no  time  in  putting  it  into  execution;  but  Charlie 
checked  his  enthusiasm. 

"No,"  he  advised.  "They'll  be  on  the  lookout. 
Let  one  or  two  messages  go  by,  though,  with  just  a 
bungling  attempt  to  follow,  and  they'll  begin  to  grow 
careless.  That'll  be  our  time  to  start  trailing." 

"But  how  do  you  know  there  will  be  further 
messages?" 

"How  do  I  know  that  Christmas  is  coming?  You 
don't  suppose  they're  sending  for  that  bonnet  merely 
to  doll  your  daughter  up,  do  you?  As  I  told  you, 
they'll  send  you  a  photograph  of  her  wearing  it  to 
prove  to  you  that  she's  alive  and  well,  and  then  they'll 
begin  to  apply  the  screws." 

"Demand  money,  do  you  mean?  But  why  haven't 
they  done  so  before?  It  is  a  month  to-day  since  Hope 


5  6  SWALLOWED  UP 

disappeared;  yet,  although  I  have  thrown  myself  wide 
open  to  an  offer,  this  communication  through  you  is 
the  first  word  I  have  received  either  directly  or  in 
directly." 

"Sure.  They  wanted  you  to  try  the  cops  and  all 
the  rest  of  it,  and  learn  just  how  tight  they  had  you 
tied  up.  Now  that  they  think  you're  desperate,  they're 
ready  to  do  business." 

"But  all  this  circumlocution — this  nonsense  of  send 
ing  a  hat  and  one  thing  and  another — seems  silly  to 

• 

me,"  objected  Ranger,  pushing  out  his  lip.  "All  I 
want  is  my  daughter.  Can't  you  chalk  up  a  message 
of  the  same  kind  you  received,  telling  them  I  am  ready 
to  meet  any  terms  they  propose?" 

"Terms?"  Charlie's  glance  was  significant.  "Be 
lieve  me,  Lorry,  those  birds  are  planning  to  strip  you 
bare.  They'll  never  be  satisfied  with  anything  less 
than  your  whole  roll." 

"Then  let  them  have  it!"  Ranger  did  not  hesitate 
a  second.  "I'm  ready  to  start  in  all  over  again,  if  only 
my  daughter " 

Charlie  shook  his  head. 

"It  wouldn't  do  you  any  good.  Those  wolves  don't 
know  what  mercy  is.  They'll  never  hand  over  the 
girl,  with  the  chance  of  her  telling  something  that 
might  give  them  away.  No;  what  they're  planning 
is  to  string  you  along  on  one  excuse  or  another  until 
they've  milked  you  dry.  Then  they'll  quietly  croak 
her  and  end  the  matter  up. 


SWALLOWED  UP  57 

"Your  only  hope,  Loring — I'm  giving  it  to  you 
straight — is  to  play  the  game  the  way  they've  laid  it 
out  for  you  and  try  to  catch  them  napping  before 
they've  got  you  plumb  skinned.  If  you'll " 

His  alert  glance  caught  sight  of  the  returning  Bryan 
making  his  way  toward  them  through  the  outer  office, 
and,  without  altering  his  attitude,  he  changed  his  tone 
to  one  of  querulous  expostulation. 

"If  you'll  quit  your  arguing  and  do  as  I  say,  we'll 
soon  see  if  there's  anything  in  it  or  not.  A  hat  isn't 
going  to  set  you  back  more  than  twenty-five  or  thirty 
dollars,  and  you'd  hand  that  out  any  day  to  one  of 
your  high-priced  'dicks'  and  think  nothing  of  it." 

"Oh,  come  along,  then."  Ranger  took  his  cue  in  a 
way  that  even  Charlie  had  to  approve.  "But  mind 
you —  '  he  got  up  with  the  air  of  yielding  against  his 
judgment — "I  haven't  the  slightest  hope  that  anything 
will  come  of  it." 

"Ah,  Bryan?"  with  an  assumption  of  eagerness. 
"You  saw  the  girl  at  headquarters?  Did  she —  No? 
Only  another  disappointment,  eh?" 

Sighing,  he  picked  up  his  hat,  and  he  and  Charlie 
left  the  office.  Outside,  he  dismissed  his  chauffeur 
and,  driving  the  car  himself,  proceeded  to  a  millinery 
shop  on  a  cross-street  in  the  Fifties. 

When  the  odd  pair  entered  this  feminine  Mecca  of 
cunningly  arranged  mirrors  and  carefully  tinted  walls, 
the  strayed  princess  who  received  them  gave  the  sug 
ared  languor  of  her  smile  exclusively  to  Ranger;  the 


5  8  SWALLOWED  UP 

other  person  was,  of  course,  impossible.  But  after 
she  had  brought  out  several  hats,  setting  forth  with 
soft  fluency  the  desirability  of  each,  Ranger  failed  to 
meet  her  expectations.  He  appeared  more  bewildered 
and  uncertain  every  minute. 

It  was  then  that  Juarez  Charlie  boldly  projected 
himself  into  the  situation. 

"You've  got  the  wrong  steer  altogether,  little  one," 
he  said  briskly.  "These  lids  are  all  right  for  Fifth 
Avenue ;  but  we  want  something  that  will  stand  out 
like  an  English  flag  in  an  Irish  street  parade — some 
thing  so  out  of  style  that  no  swell  dame  would  be 
caught  dead  in  it,  or  so  into  style  that  if  it  showed  up 
along  Forty-second  Street  they'd  have  to  call  out  the 
reserves.  Do  you  get  me,  Fanchon?" 

A  more  human  smile  broke  through  the  veneer  of 
the  princess's  superiority.  He  was  speaking  her  lan 
guage.  Fresh;  she'd  say  so.  But  he  knew  what  he 
wanted  all  right  and  was  able  to  spill  it  so  that  she 
could  understand.  Only  discipline,  environment  and 
the  presence  of  Ranger  prevented  her  from  replying 
in  kind. 

"Ah?"  She  hastily  relegated  the  toque  she  was  bal 
ancing  on  two  fingers  to  a  table  and  permitted  herself 
to  descend  to  a  vulgar  interest.  "Is  it  perhaps  for 
some  lady  of  the  stage  to  wear  in  a  character  part?" 

"You've  got  it,  sister.  Just  think  of  what  Marie 
Dressier  would  wear  as  the  belle  of  Hickville  when 
she  first  hits  Paris." 


SWALLOWED  UP  59 

The  princess  was  genuinely  intrigued.  She  sought, 
she  found  a  bizarre  shape,  gave  it  a  pinch  in  here,  a 
flare  out  there,  thus  immeasurably  heightening  its  ab 
surdity.  She  pinned  on  towering  spirals  of  ribbon, 
and  trailed  feathers  a  shoulder-length  over  the  brim. 

"Do  you  approve?"  she  asked,  glancing  up  archly  as 
she  placed  it  on  her  head. 

"Couldn't  be  better!"  Charlie  was  enthusiastic. 
"Now  run,  bright  eyes,  and  sew  it  together  with  your 
own  pretty  ringers." 

Ranger  hurriedly  placed  a  bill  in  those  same  fingers, 
and  she  went,  humming  a  song,  to  return  presently 
with  the  completed  hat  in  a  box.  As  Ranger  paid  for 
it,  Charlie  was  forced  to  revise  his  estimate  of  the  cost 
of  women's  headwear.  A  parting  compliment  or  so 
to  the  princess,  and  he  seized  the  hat-box  and  carried 
it  out  to  the  car. 

A  long  drive  was  before  them,  their  objective  Char 
lie's  lodgings.  These  were  in  a  stark,  detached  house 
sadly  in  need  of  paint  in  an  isolated  neighborhood  on 
the  outskirts  of  Brooklyn. 

"We'll  know  now  just  how  closely  we're  being  spied 
on,"  he  commented,  as  they  swung  through  a  huddle 
of  mean  suburban  streets  and  across  a  railroad  track  to 
reach  it.  Then  as  they  drew  up  before  the  gate,  he 
gave  a  sudden  exclamation  and  leaped  out  to  examine 
three  rude  chalk-marks  scrawled  as  though  a  child  had 
done  it  across  one  of  the  posts  of  the  sagging  paling 
fence. 


60  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Look,  Lorry!  They're  playing  it  exactly  as  I 
doped.  And  it's  just  as  I  told  you,  too;  we  can't  make 
a  move  but  they're  wise  to  it." 

"What  is  it?  Another  message?"  demanded  Ran 
ger,  who  had  climbed  out  of  the  car  and  was  also 
bending  over  to  inspect  the  marks. 

"No;  but  it  tells  where  the  message  is  to  be  found." 
And  beckoning  his  companion  to  follow,  he  started  for 
the  railroad  tracks  just  below. 

A  short  distance  from  the  crossing  was  a  siding 
with  a  string  of  box-cars  standing  along  it.  Charlie 
pointed  to  them. 

"That's  where  we'll  find  the  message  all  right,"  he 
announced  confidently.  But  although  they  went  over 
the  entire  line  of  cars,  even  climbing  up  to  inspect  the 
tops  of  them,  no  sign  of  anything  resembling  a  com 
munication  was  to  be  found. 

Nonplused  and  puzzled,  they  rushed  back  to  the 
house  to  see  if  they  could  possibly  have  mistaken  the 
directions  chalked  on  the  fence-post.  But,  no;  as 
Charlie  deciphered  the  hieroglyphics,  the  plain  instruc 
tions  were  to  seek  the  message  down  along  the  rail 
way. 

"Maybe,  we  came  too  quick,  before  the  fellow  had  a 
chance  to  chalk  her  up?"  muttered  Charlie.  Then,  as 
his  roving  glance  fell  on  the  motor,  he  startled  and 
gasped.  "By  Godfrey,  Lorry!  Somebody's  come 
along  and  swiped  the  hat." 

He    was    right.     The    large,  gaily   decorated   box 


SWALLOWED  UP  61 

which  they  had  left  on  the  rear  seat  of  the  tonneau  was 
gone.  With  a  common  impulse  the  two  hastened  over 
to  the  side  of  the  car  and  looked  in  to  see  if,  by  any 
chance,  it  could  have  fallen  to  the  floor. 

It  had  not.  But  as  they  gazed,  Charlie  made  a 
sharp  exclamation. 

There  upon  the  cushion  of  the  seat  where  the  box 
had  rested  was  chalked  a  circle  with  a  rough  cross- 
mark  in  the  center  of  it,  like  the  "X"  of  a  voter  on  an 
election-ballot — the  sign-manual  of  the  Combine. 

Charlie  stood  looking  far  more  guilty  than  if  he  had 
been  detected  in  a  theft. 

"Fooled!"  He  began  to  swear  under  his  breath. 
"Go  on,  Lorry ;  say  anything  you  like.  You  can't  call 
me  anything  worse  than  I'm  calling  myself." 

But  Ranger  was  in  no  mood  for  reproaches.  On 
the  contrary,  he  was  inclined  to  draw  encouragement 
from  the  incident.  The  hat  was  gone,  and  he  took  it 
as  proof  that  Hope  was  alive.  So  far  at  least  Char 
lie's  theory  was  vindicated. 

"You  said  we  must  bungle  one  or  two  times  in 
order  to  render  them  careless,"  he  returned  generously. 
'Well,  we've  done  it.  What  more  do  you  want?" 

"Maybe  some  one  saw  them?"  Charlie  had  floun 
dered  up  from  the  dust  of  his  humiliation,  and  his  eyes 
were  darting  up  and  down  the  empty  street.  He 
caught  sight  of  his  landlady  sewing  at  an  upper  win 
dow  and  dashed  inside. 

But  his  inquiry  of  her  elicited  only  the  information 


62  SWALLOWED  UP 

that  during  the  absence  of  himself  and  Ranger  another 
automobile  had  driven  up  and  had  stopped  before  the 
house  as  if  to  make  some  slight  repairs.  It  had  halted 
but  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  had  driven  on  again. 
The  chauffeur  who  got  out  was  a  young  man,  she 
thought,  but  she  couldn't  see  his  face  as  he  was  bending 
over  the  engine.  She  couldn't  describe  the  car,  and  she 
wasn't  sure  whether  there  were  others  in  it  or  not. 

"So,  there's  that!"  Charlie  shrugged  his  shoulders 
as  they  started  back  to  town.  "Clever  work  to  send  us 
off  on  a  wild-goose  chase  among  those  freight-cars 
while  they  gypped  us  of  the  creation.  Nothing  to  do 
now,  of  course,  but  wait  for  the  next  message. 
Only — "  he  dug  viciously  in  his  tobacco-sack — 
"they  don't  catch  me  asleep  at  the  switch  again." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  May  breeze  caught  up  a  sheet  of  news 
paper  and  sent  it  scudding  down  the  road. 
It  headed  straight  for  the  ditch,  hung  a  mo 
ment  on  the  brink  of  a  little  pool  of  stagnant  water, 
and  then,  with  the  sudden  veering  of  a  stronger  wind, 
was  lifted  high  in  air  and  carried  over  a  lofty  brick 
wall  and  privet  hedge.     It  blew  along  the  grass  within 
the  enclosure  until  it  flapped  against  the  trunk  of  a 
large  beech-tree,  and  there  it  lay. 

George  Kelsey,  strolling  about  the  grounds,  saw  it, 
and  his  listless  expression  changed  to  one  of  avid 
interest,  immediately  suppressed.  Before  he  took  a 
step  toward  it,  though,  he  looked  about  him,  his  indif 
ferent  glance  embracing  the  whole  scene — the  large 
house  with  its  bright  awnings  and  wide  porches,  the 
smooth  green  lawns  where  circular  sprinklers  were 
playing  like  miniature  fountains,  every  clump  of  shrub 
bery.  Near  him  a  gardener  was  bending  over  a  flower 
bed,  but  Kelsey  knew  that  although  the  man  was  intent 
on  his  work  he  was  observant. 

Kelsey  yawned  and  sauntered  over  toward  a  rustic 
bench  under  the  beech-tree.  Sheltered  for  a  moment 
by  its  trunk,  he  stooped  quickly,  crumpled  the  stained, 
frayed  paper  in  his  hand,  folded  it  roughly  and  laid 

63 


64  SWALLOWED  UP 

it  between  the  pages  of  his  book.  Then  seating  him 
self  on  the  rustic  bench,  he  opened  the  volume  and  be 
gan  to  read. 

One  of  the  most  rigidly  observed  rules  of  this  ex 
clusive  private  hospital  for  what  are  euphemistically 
called  "nervous  cases"  was  that  no  reading- matter 
was  permitted  which  might  excite  the  patients  or  arouse 
discussion  among  them.  There  was  a  carefully  selec 
ted  library  of  innocuous  novels,  mild  biographies  and 
records  of  travel,  and  a  few  tepid  magazines.  News 
papers  were  banned. 

Consequently  to  Kelsey,  as  ignorant  of  world  hap 
penings  and  the  progress  of  events  as  if  he  were  on 
a  desert  island,  the  discovery  of  this  paper  was  as 
exciting  and  momentous  a  circumstance  as  the  glimpse 
of  a  sail  to  a  shipwrecked  crew. 

It  was  disappointing,  though,  for  him  to  find  that 
he  had  only  a  stray  sheet  of  a  Sunday  supplement 
two  or  three  weeks  old,  entirely  taken  up  with  the  dis 
appearance  of  a  girl  called  Hope  Ranger  and  illustrated 
with  pictures  of  her  reproduced  from  photographs, 
paintings  and  sketches.  No  doubt  by  this  time  the 
girl  had  been  found  and  the  reward  paid — a  huge  one, 
that. 

'Still  it  was  news,  even  if  it  was  not  of  a  kind  that 
particularly  interested  him.  Having  read  to  the  end, 
he  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket  and  the  fate  of  Hope 
Ranger  out  of  his  mind. 

He  had  more  important  and  personal  questions  to 


SWALLOWED  UP  65 

consider.  Laying  his  book  on  the  bench  beside  him, 
he  sat  with  his  arms  folded,  staring  at  the  ground 
before  him,  too  deeply  absorbed  in  his  own  predica 
ment  and  its  dangers  and  difficulties  to  hear  light  foot 
falls  on  the  grass. 

The  sense  of  some  one  being  near  him  rather  than 
the  perception  of  an  actual  presence  roused  him  finally 
from  his  brown  study,  and  he  looked  up,  expecting  to 
see  one  of  the  silent  men  who  worked  so  unobtrusively 
about  the  place  and  who  always  seemed  to  pop  up  if 
one  strayed  too  near  the  gates  or  wall. 

Instead,  a  girl  was  standing  a  few  feet  away  from 
him,  regarding  him  steadily,  her  hands  clasped  before 
her. 

The  involuntary  smile  of  recognition  died  on  his 
lips  as  he  stood  up.  He  had  thought  at  first — a 
resemblance  only,  but  to  whom?  Where  had  he  seen 
— recently?  He  grasped  it.  One  of  the  nurses, 
Miss  Copley.  He  had  talked  to  her  the  day  be 
fore. 

But  he  had  now  a  swift  impression  of  grace  and 
charm,  of  a  distinction  which  the  nurse  did  not  possess. 
His  brain  ticked  off  these  notes  as  the  habit  of  obser 
vation  continued  mechanically  to  function;  but  they 
were  superseded,  nullified  by  some  strange  emotional 
realization  of  her — an  ephemeral  experience  outside 
the  measurements  of  time,  lasting  the  infinitesimal  frac 
tion  of  a  second;  gone. 

He  stood  still  waiting  for  her  to  speak ;  but  she  said 


66  SWALLOWED  UP 

nothing — only  continued  to  gaze  at  him  with  heavy, 
shadowed  eyes. 

"Good  morning,"  he  broke  the  silence  which  was 
becoming  awkward.  "For  a  moment  I  thought  you 
were  Miss  Copley." 

"Did  you?"  she  asked  vaguely.  Her  voice  con 
firmed  the  impression  of  charm.  It  was  warm, 
faintly  vibrating. 

"Miss  Copley  is  a  nurse  here,"  he  explained.  "She 
resembles  you  very  much.  I  thought  she  might  be 
your  sister." 

"Sister?"  she  echoed  in  the  same  monotonous  tone. 
"I  have  no  sister."  She  stopped  and  considered  this, 
her  brows  twisting.  "I  don't  think  I  have  a  sister." 

She  came  nearer  him  and  sat  down  on  the  bench, 
motioning  him  to  resume  his  seat. 

"You  have  a  newspaper,"  she  stated,  with  a  direct 
ness  which  would  have  struck  him  as  odd  if  he  had 
noticed  it. 

"You  saw  that  ?"  he  exclaimed,  annoyed  as  much  at 
the  necessity  for  subterfuge  in  such  trifling  matters 
as  at  being  found  out.  "A  silly  rule  to  forbid  them." 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Then  curiosity  to  hear 
what  she  would  say  made  him  add,  "Are  you  going  to 
give  me  away?" 

"Certainly  not!"  a  touch  of  disdain  in  her  surprise. 
If  he  had  known  it,  she  was  dismayed  at  the  prompt 
ness  of  her  answer. 


SWALLOWED  UP  67 

"I  did  say,  'newspaper/  then?"  she  asked  naively. 
"I  forget  so  easily  that  I  might  just  as  well  have  said 
table-cloth,  or  garden  gate,  or  something  else  as  ridicu 
lous.  They  say  I  do  often." 

''There  are  others."  Kelsey  felt  a  sudden  desire 
to  console  her.  "I  heard  a  man  at  breakfast  this 
morning  ask  for  two  bales  of  hay  fried  on  one 
side." 

A  delightfully  humorous  smile  curved  her  lips  and 
then  was  gone,  lost  in  the  vacuity  that  returned  to  her 
expression. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  she  shook  her  head.  "I 
don't  understand  anything.  I  don't  even  know 
whether  I  have  met  you  before  or  not." 

He  looked  down  at  her  with  his  friendly  smile,  his 
voice  reassuring. 

"I  never  saw  you  until  just  now." 

"Are  you  a  patient  here,  too?" 

Kelsey  had  an  uncertain  temper  which  he  had 
taught  himself  to  control;  but  at  her  question  a  flare 
of  anger  swept  over  his  face,  which  slowly  congealed 
to  an  icy  repression. 

"Am  I  a  patient?"  He  had  turned  in  his  seat, 
and  she  saw  that  the  flame  still  lingered  in  his  hot  blue 
eyes.  There  were  white  dents  about  the  corners  of 
his  mouth ;  his  voice  was  rough ;  the  inflections  were 
satirical.  "Well,  that  is  as  you  look  at  it.  I  was 
house  physician  here  for  a  few  weeks.  I  resigned — 


68  SWALLOWED  UP 

for  reasons.  My  resignation  was  accepted,  and  I 
packed  my  things  and  prepared  to  leave.  I  needed 
a  car  to  take  me  to  the  station,  as  it  was  some  distance. 
There  were  polite  excuses — all  the  cars  were  in  use. 
I  started  to  walk,  hoping  I'd  get  a  lift  on  the  road; 
the  gates  were  locked.  I  attempted  to  throw  my  bags 
over  the  wall  and  scramble  after  them.  Two  men. 
closed  in  on  me.  I  lost  my  head  and  struck  out,  but 
they  were  too  much  for  me.  Our  superintendent  had 
grown  so  fond  of  me,  you  see,  that  he  couldn't  bear 
to  part.  So  he  elevated  me  to  the  rank  of  a  patient. 
I  am  still  here — for  the  present." 

"That  means — you  intend  to  get  away?"  she  leaned 
nearer  him  to  whisper. 

"I — will — get — away!"  biting  off  the  words  with  a 
click  of  his  jaw.  "Never  doubt  it.  I— 

He  stopped  short  and  swept  his  hand  back  over 
his  light  ruddy  hair,  flushing  sullenly  over  the  reali 
zation  that  he  was  making  an  ass  of  himself  to  run  on 
this  way  to  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  hospital,  who 
if  she  were  able  to  follow  him  at  all,  would  probably 
babble  every  word  he  had  said  to  the  next  person  she 
met. 

"I'm  talking  nonsense,"  he  began  stiffly;  but  she 
touched  him  lightly  on  the  arm. 

"Dr.  Bristow  is  coming,"  she  murmured.  "Give 
me  a  pencil  quick,  and  wait  here.  I  will  come  back — 
if  I  can." 

Wondering  alike  at  the  quick  change  in  her  manner 


SWALLOWED  UP  69 

and  at  the  purpose  of  her  request,  he  gave  her  the 
pencil,  and  she  moved  away,  to  stand  listlessly  turning 
it  in  her  hands  and  looking  vacantly  before  her. 

The  superintendent  of  the  institution  came  striding 
across  the  lawn  toward  them.  He  was  a  man  of  about 
medium  height ;  but  his  up-thrown  head,  the  squareness 
of  his  shoulders  and  his  erect  bearing  gave  the  impres 
sion  of  size. 

In  features,  too,  he  was  impressive,  even  extra 
ordinary.  Heavy,  dark  brows  over  strikingly  keen, 
slate-gray  eyes;  a  firm,  clean-shaven  mouth  and  chin, 
and  thick  dark  hair  growing  far  down  the  nape  of  the 
neck. 

As  always,  he  was  fastidiously  dressed — a  gray 
morning  suit  and  a  gray  soft  hat.  The  luster  of  a 
splendid  black  pearl  shone  in  his  mauve  necktie. 

"Well,  Miss  Copley" — he  stopped  before  the  girl 
and  spoke  in  the  sympathetic,  slightly  bantering  tone 
of  a  physician  to  a  convalescent  patient — "this  is  better 
than  moping  over  rejected  manuscripts,  don't  you 
think?" 

She  still  stared  before  her. 

"He  gave  me  this  pencil,"  she  said;  "but  he  wouldn't 
give  me  any  paper."  She  moved  on  droopingly  toward 
the  house. 

"Good  morning,  Kelsey."  Dr.  Bristow's  voice 
was  low.  It  was  said  that  he  had  never  been  heard 
to  raise  it  above  that  modulated  pitch.  To  do  so  was 
unnecessary;  it  was  sufficiently  authoritative  without 


7o  SWALLOWED  UP 

emphasis.  "You  have  been  making  friends  with  Miss 
Copley,  I  see." 

The  remark  was  casual,  but  Kelsey  divined  under 
currents. 

"Is  that  her  name?"  he  asked  uninterestedly.  "I 
thought  it  might  be.  Sisters?" 

The  doctor's  eyes  were  on  him. 

"Yes — a  sad  case.  Hopeless,  I  fear.  She 
wanted  to  be  a  writer.  I  have  seen  some  of  her  manu 
scripts.  Pretty  bad.  There  was  one  fair  story, 
though,  of  a  little  sempstress  who  fell  in  love  with  an 
actor's  picture.  He  played  Mercutio.  That  was  one 
of  your  favorite  parts,  I  believe." 

"You're  in  one  of  your  inventive  moods  to-day," 
Kelsey  said  insolently.  As  usual  when  he  was  with 
Bristow,  he  was  at  a  disadvantage.  He  knew  from 
experience  that  no  verbal  arrows  had  power  to  dent 
the  burnished  armor  of  the  superintendent's  equa 
nimity,  and  his  longing  to  administer  a  stiff  punch  to 
the  jaw  was  more  intense  than  usual  this  morning. 
But  he  had  sense  enough  to  restrain  it. 

"Have  you  entirely  forgotten  the  hit  you  made  in 
that  part?"  Bristow  was  now,  as  Kelsey  expressed 
it  to  himself,  baiting  him  for  fair.  "Can't  you  recall 
the  duel  scene  where  you  stagger  back  into  the  arms 
of  your  supporters,  the  house  still?  'Tis  not  so  deep 
as  a  well,  nor  so  wide  as  a  church  door,  but  'twill 


SWALLOWED  UP  71 

serve.  A  plague  o'  both  your  houses!'  Then  the 
thunders  of  applause." 

Kelsey  was  a  little  pale  from  his  effort  at  self-control, 
his  mouth  was  rigid. 

"\Yho  that  had  ever  lived  through  such  an  inspiring 
experience  could  forget  it?"  'he  murmured  with  exag 
gerated  enthusiasm. 

"Good!"  Bristow's  tone  was  gratified.  "You  are 
coming  along  nicely,  my  dear  boy." 

With  a  pleasant  nod,  he  turned  away  and  stepped 
back  to  the  drive  where  his  car  was  waiting.  A 
moment  more,  and  he  was  whirling  through  the?  gates, 
the  big  noiselessly  running  machine  no  greater  an  ex 
ample  than  himself  of  controlled,  coordinated  force. 

Kelsey's  face  was  black  as  he  looked  after  him. 
Lost  in  his  resentment  and  sense  of  injury,  he  had 
forgotten  the  girl.  It  was  with  a  start  that  he  realized 
that  she  had  come  back  and  was  seating  herself  beside 
him.  Suspicions,  surmises,  doubts  ran  helter-skelter1 
through  his  mind. 

"Give  me  some  paper,"  she  said  imperatively. 

Studying  her,  curious  to  see  what  she  would,  say 
or  do  next,  Kelsey  took  a  note-book  from  his  pocket 
and,  tearing  out  a  few  sheets,  handed  them  to  her. 

She  began  to  write — words,  half-words,  dots,  dashes, 
anything.  Her  head  was  bent  over  the  paper.  Any 
one  watching  her  would  have  thought  her  absorbed 


72  SWALLOWED  UP 

in  her  task.  But,  while  she  wrote,  she  talked  in  a 
rapid  undertone. 

"You  are  an  actor,"  she  said  accusingly.  "I  over 
heard  some  of  the  things  he  said  to  you.  Perhaps  you 
were  only  acting  when  you  spoke  of  him  to  me  ?  And 
yet — oh,  no" — she  clutched  her  pencil  and  paper  tight 
— "I  can't  believe  that.  I  saw  your  face.  You 
couldn't " 

"I  never  was  an  actor,"  he  interrupted  harshly. 
"That's  Bristow's  little  game.  I  am  what  I  told  you, 
George  Kelsey,  a  physician  who  has  specialized  in 
mental  diseases.  But  who  are  you?  That's  more  to 
the  point  just  now.  I  made  a  snap  diagnosis  of  you, 
when  I  saw  you  first,  as  a  drug-addict — your  pallor, 
your  eyes.  But  they  don't  admit  them  here.  Am 
nesia,  then?  That  means  your  memory  of  past 
events  is  blotted  out.  Yet  I  don't  believe,  for  all  you 
say,  that  yours  is  even  touched. 

"No!  No!"  Her  voice  was  anguished,  but  her 
meaningless  scribbling  went  steadily  on. 

"Aphasia  was  a  possibility,  saying  'table-cloth' 
when  you  mean  'newspaper'  and  all  that.  You  said 
you  did,  but  I  have  noticed  no  lapses  of  the  sort. 
Paranoia?  Dementia  praecox?"  He  shook  his  head. 
"You  would  have  confided  to  me  your  persecutions  or 
delusions.  But  your  own  ego  is  far  from  uppermost. 
You  have  been  studying  mine,  trying  to  draw  me  out. 
Why  ?"  he  demanded.  "Who  are  you  ?  What  are  you 
doing  here?" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN"  attendant  making  his  leisurely  rounds 
paused  near  the  rustic  bench  on  which  Kelsey 
and  the  girl  were  sitting,  and  speculatively 
measured  the  distance  between  them  and  the  wall  with 
his  eyes. 

Kelsey  recognized  him  as  one  of  the  men  who 
had  hindered  his  egress  when  he  tossed  his  luggage 
over  the  gate  and  attempted  to  climb  after  it;  and 
meeting  that  heavy,  suspicious  glance,  lifted  his  brows 
and  drooped  his  mouth  simulating  a  bored  and  weary 
resignation  which  was  further  borne  out  by  his  inert, 
lounging  attitude. 

The  attendant,  remembering  a  painful  bruise  or 
so  sustained  in  their  brief  but  animated  encounter, 
twinkled  his  small  eyes,  grinned  and  walked  on,  de 
riving  a  malicious  pleasure  from  ignoring  what  he 
took  to  be  Kelsey's  S.  O.  S.  call  for  relief. 

The  girl  paid  no  attention  to  either  of  them.  Her 
head  bent  over  the  note-book,  she  covered  its  pages 
with  a  racing  pencil  apparently  oblivious  to  every 
thing  about  her. 

"He's  gone,"  murmured  Kelsey  when  the  guard 
had  moved  out  of  ear-shot.  "Now  tell  me." 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  he  was  intuitive 

73 


74  SWALLOWED  UP 

enough  to  grasp  that  she  was  wavering  between  doubt 
and  faith.  She  had  turned  to  him  naturally,  instinc 
tively;  but  now  she  was  frightened.  Bristow's  con 
versation  with  him  had  raised  a  question  in  her  mind. 
She  was  no  longer  sure  that  he  was  a  friend  and  ally, 
and  until  he  had  convinced  her,  she  hesitated  to  give 
him  her  confidence. 

This  unreadiness  to  trust  him  was  not  flattering 
to  his  self-esteem,  but  it  was  certainly  another  proof 
of  her  sanity — the  insane  are  usually  only  too  ready 
to  discuss  the  subject  of  their  aberrations.  It  was 
proof,  too,  that  she  was,  or  felt  she  was  running  a 
considerable  risk  in  disclosing  herself  as  a  mentally 
normal  person;  and  naturally  his  curiosity  was 
stirred  to  learn  why  a  woman  in  that  place  was  volun 
tarily  assuming  the  role  of  a  "bug." 

Yet  oddly  this  desire  to  fathom  the  puzzle  she  pre 
sented  was  subordinate,  he  realized,  to  an  eagerness  to 
win  her  belief  in.  himself.  A  sense  of  vast  compassion 
filled  him  as  he  looked  at  her.  Through  her  pallor 
and  the  shadows  that  lay  about  her  haunting  eyes, 
he  could  vision  the  radiance  and  bloom  so  lately  van 
ished.  Even  now  there  was  no  suggestion  of  invalid- 
ism  about  her.  She  had  the  poised  graceful  body,  the 
free  precision  of  movement  of  a  girl  who  had  from 
childhood  enjoyed  all  open-air  sports. 

The  sunlight  flickered  in  golden  discs  over  her  dark 
hair  and  her  cheek  like  the  petal  of  a  magnolia  flower. 


SWALLOWED  UP  75 

But  more  than  her  beauty,  the  appeal  of  her  charm  and 
spirit  moved  him.  Filaments  as  tenuous  and  ethereal 
as  those  of  a  spider's  web  drew  him  to  her  with  the 
impulses  of  sympathy  and  protection. 

"It's  all  rather  confusing  to  me,"  she  said  at  last, 
evidently  still  hesitating  to  commit  herself;  "why  I 
am  at  this  place,  I  mean,  and  the  reason  for  keeping 
me  here,  and  all.  And  I  would  like  to  get  things  clear. 
Perhaps  it  would  help,  if  you  would  tell  me  first  what 
you  are  doing  here?" 

Balked,  he  mentally  applauded  her  adroitness.  She 
had  met  his  demand  for  explanations  by  deftly  turn 
ing  the  tables  on  him*  The  questioner  had  become  the 
questioned. 

"Very  well,"  he  smiled  quizzically;  "since  you  pre 
fer  it  that  way.  But  if  I  stop  short  at  any  time, 
you'll  understand  that  it's  because  some  one  is  about. 

"I  won't  go  into  my  first  meeting  with  Bristow  and 
all  that."  He  talked  rapidly  and  in  short  sentences, 
moving  his  lips  as  little  as  possible.  "I  came  here  as 
an  assistant  physician,  and  liked  it.  The  place  is  splen 
didly  run  and  up  to  date.  An  invaluable  experience 
for  me,  for  a  little  while  anyway.  Then  one  day — 
no  need  going  into  details  now — I  overheard  a  con 
versation  between  Bristow  and  a  visitor.  I  didn't 
listen  intentionally  of  course,  but  I  was  in  such  a 
position  that  I  couldn't  help  it.  This  visitor  was  de 
scribing  the  theft  of  a  lot  of  valuable  jewels,  and  con- 


76  SWALLOWED  UP 

suiting  Bristow  about  the  best  method  of  disposing  of 
them.  And  Bristow  made  no  bones  about  giving  his 
assistance — on  a  fifty-fifty  basis.  He  laid  out  a  whole 
scheme,  told  the  fellow  just  what  to  do,  giving  the 
names  of  persons  and  places." 

He  paused,  as  if  expecting  her  to  question  his  state 
ment. 

"It  doesn't  surprise  me  a  bit,"  she  said,  drawing 
in  her  breath  sharply. 

"No?  Well,  I  was  so  flabbergasted  that  I  simply 
stood  there  like  a  tree,  rooted.  I  couldn't  believe  my 
ears.  My  brain  seemed  numbed. 

"Bristow  discovered  me  of  course.  He  ended  the 
conversation  short,  and  sent  the  man  away.  He  never 
turned  a  hair,  I'll  say  that  for  him;  he's  great  in  an 
emergency.  But  his  eyes,  they  went  through  me  like 
a  diamond  drill." 

A  responsive  shiver  passed  over  her  shoulders. 

"There  was  no  use  acting  as  if  I  hadn't  taken  it 
all  in,"  Kelsey  resumed;  "and  I  didn't  hesitate  to 
express  myself.  I  was  leaving  at  once,  I  told  him; 
didn't  care  to  be  hooked  up  with  a  bunch  of  crooks. 
Bristow  didn't  bluster  any;  just  smiled  in  that  madden 
ing,  superior  way  of  his  and  when  I  finished,  conde 
scended  to  explain.  He  had  been  humoring  a  lunatic, 
he  said;  my  experience  should  have  taught  me  the 
necessity  of  sometimes  doing  that.  The  story  of  the 
stolen  jewels  was  pure  dementia,  but  interesting  as 


SWALLOWED  UP  77 

an  example  of  unusual  coherence.  He  had  been  trying 
to  draw  the  patient  out  by  pretending  to  play  confed 
erate,  had  in  fact  rather  enjoyed  exercising  his  in 
genuity  at  it.  If  a  little  amusement  was  to  be  extracted 
now  and  then  from  the  dreary  recital  of  delusions 
one  had  to  listen  to,  why  not  take  it? 

"He  made  the  thing  plausible  enough,  but  it  didn't 
sink  in  as  he  expected.  I'd  heard  the  two  of  them  talk. 
There  wasn't  any  make-believe  about  it;  they  were 
right  down  to  business.  Actual  names  and  addresses 
were  given  and  written  down.  And  the  alleged 
patient  was  allowed  to  depart,  free". 

"So  I  stood  my  ground,  and  bluntly  told  him  that 
I  didn't  consider  the  circumstances  open  to  misinterpre 
tation. 

"Bristow  was  thinking  hard  by  this  time.  'It's  no 
use  continuing  such  a  discussion,'  he  said  shortly. 
'When  you  have  had  a  chance  to  come  to  your  senses 
and  realize  the  absurdity  of  these  suspicions,  I  shall 
expect  an  apology/ 

"  'Not  from  me,'  I  said.  'I  am  leaving  as  soon  as 
I  can  pack  my  things.' 

"He  began  tapping  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  but  he 
was  as  cool  as  ever.  'It  looks  as  if  your  usefulness 
here  is  over/  he  agreed.  'I  regret  it.  You  would  have 
been  a  valuable  man/  ' 

"Speak  a  little  lower,"  she  cautioned. 

"Thanks;  I  forgot  for  the  moment.     Well,  I  left 


78  SWALLOWED  UP 

him  then,  and  went  up  to  my  room.  I've  told  you 
how  I  attempted  to  get  away  and  failed.  After  that, 
I  tried  to  get  to  Bristow  again,  but  he  wouldn't  see 
me.  So  I  turned  to  Morton." 

"Morton?"    she    repeated   interrogatively. 

"Yes;  the  other  house  physician.  He's  a  quiet, 
non-committal  sort  of  a  fellow.  I  didn't  go  into  the 
whole  thing  with  him;  just  told  him  I'd  had  a  falling 
out  with  Bristow  and  resigned,  but  that  when  I  at 
tempted  to  leave  the  place,  I'd  been  prevented. 

"He  didn't  show  any  surprise.  He'd  been  primed. 
Just  listened,  and  said  now  and  then,  Tm  sorry,'  or 
'Too  bad.'  I  didn't  get  his  attitude  at  the  time.  My 
idea  then  was,  that  he  was  too  keen  on  his  job  to  take 
sides.  But  I  gained  a  clearer  light  on  him  when  I 
finally  talked  to  Bristow. 

"He  was  all  ready  for  me,  and  didn't  waste  any 
time  in  laying  his  cards  on  the  table. 

"  'It's  for  your  own  sake  that  I  have  taken  these 
restrictive  measures,'  he  said  in  his  best  professional 
manner.  Tm  not  easily  fooled,  yet  I  confess  I  had 
no  suspicions  of  you.  But  your  violent  outbreak 
and  the  persistent  way  you  have  clung  to  your  de 
lusions  leave  only  one  course  open  to  me.  Let  us  be 
reasonable,  Kelsey.  Whatever  opinions  you  hold  con 
cerning  my  nefarious  activities,'  he  smiled  as  if  he 
thought  that  supremely  amusing,  'you  will  at  least 
concede  my  standing  and  experience  as  a  physician. 
So  I  urge  you  to  regard  me  simply  in  that  light,  and 


SWALLOWED  UP  79 

give  me  your  confidence.     Do  you  remember  any  great 
shock  or  accident  in  your  life?' 

"I  saw  where  he  was  heading,  and  boiled  over. 

"No  shock  like  finding  you  a  scoundrel  and  a  thief !' 
I  jumped  up  from  my  chair.  'Of  course  I  see  your 
game,  Doctor.  I  know  too  much  for  my  health,  and 
therefore  you  are  prescribing  a  rest  for  me  here  under 
your  eye.' 

"He  looked  at  me  without  moving  a  muscle,  patient 
still,  but  a  little  stern. 

'  'In  the  last  few  days,'  he  said,  'I've  gathered  con 
siderable  information  about  your  past  life.  You 
are,  I  find,  an  Australian,  an  actor  born  in  Melbourne. 
Your  name  is  not  Kelsey  but  Haworth,  James  Ha- 
worth.' 

"That  was  a  bit  too  thick,  and  I  told  him  so.  The 
devil  listened  to  me  quietly,  never  altering  his  expres 
sion.  He  was  the  grave,  kind  medical  adviser. 

'You  say,  "What  rot!"  and  say  it  quite  seriously,' 
he  came  back  at  me ;  'for  yours  is  a  case  of  dual  person 
ality.  You  started  life  as  a  young  physician.  Some 
thing  occurred,  a  shock  of  some  sort.  Your  secon 
dary  personality  asserted  itself,  and  you  became  an 
actor.  This  continued  for  a  time  and  then  the  doc 
tor  personality  reasserted  itself  and  you  came  to  this 
country.  In  neither  of  these  states  is  there  any  re 
membrance  of  the  other.  There  may  eventually 
occur — and  I  think  I  can  help  you  in  such  a  crisis — 


8o  SWALLOWED  UP 

a  struggle  between  the  two  personalities,  and  it  will 
then  devolve  upon  you  to  decide  which  one  you  wish 
to  retain,  definitely  putting  the  other  away.  In  the 
meantime,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  keep  you  under  obser 
vation.'  " 

While  he  talked,  Kelsey  was  aware  that  the  girl 
was  following  his  narrative  with  an  almost  feverish 
intentness,  and  he  wondered  again  at  her  self-control; 
for  she  wrote  steadily  without  pause,  never  lifting 
her  eyes  from  the  note-book,  never  by  the  slightest  in 
advertence  of  movement  or  expression  giving  to  an 
unseen  observer  a  hint  that  she  was  conscious  of  her 
neighbor's  presence. 

"You  may  not  understand  this  about  dual  person 
alities,"  he  interrupted  himself  to  say;  "but  there  are 
such  cases,  and  it  was  uncommonly  clever  of  Bristow 
to  tag  me  with  that  type  of  psychic  disturbance.  For 
although  I  might  appear  perfectly  all  right,  my  best 
friends  would  hesitate  to  question  this  expert,  author 
itative  verdict  on  a  neurotic  condition  so  outside  their 
ordinary  experience,  and  would  agree  that  a  hospital 
was  a  proper  place  for  me." 

"I  see,"  she  murmured.  "Go  on,  please — quickly. 
Some  one  may  come  before  you  finish." 

"Well,  of  course  I  told  him  that  he  couldn't  put 
anything  of  the  kind  across.  There  were  too  many 
people  in  Chicago  who  remembered  me  from  baby 
hood,  not  to  speak  of  my  college  years. 


SWALLOWED  UP  81 

"It  didn't  feaze  him.  He  advised  me  to  keep  cool 
and  accept  the  situation  gracefully.  Insubordination 
would  only  make  it  harder  for  me.  He  absolutely 
refused  to  take  the  responsibility  of  permitting  me  at 
large. 

"High-handed,  wasn't  it;  and  yet  fairly  safe.  I 
had  talked  pretty  freely  to  him  before  our  row,  and 
he  knew  that  I  had  no  close  relatives  to  bother  about 
me,  and  my  friends  would  take  it  for  granted  I'd 
moved  on  somewhere,  and  that  they  would  hear  from 
me  when  I  got  ready. 

"There;  that's  my  story.  Do  you —  Are  you  sat- 
tisfied  that  I  am  neither  a  lunatic,  nor  a  tool  of  Bris- 
tow's?"  He  held  his  breath  while  he  waited  for  her 
answer,  wondering  that  it  should  mean  so  much  to 
him. 

"Yes,"  there  were  no  reservations  in  her  voice  now; 
"I  do  trust  you.  I  did  from  the  first,  but  I  had  to  be 
sure.  Oh,  if  you  knew  what  it  means  to  me  to  find 
some  one  in  this  place  on  whom  I  can  rely!" 

The  relief,  the  fervor  in  her  tone  stung  him.  He 
had  not  regretted  the  stand  he  had  taken  with  Bris- 
tow  even  in  the  grip  of  the  consequences  it  entailed. 
But  now  he  saw  that  if  he  had  adopted  a  more  tem 
perate,  politic  course,  he  might  still  be  a  house  physi 
cian  and  in  a  position  to  be  of  real  service  to  her. 

"I've  been  a  hot-headed  fool !"  He  was  moodily 
abject  in  his  self-condemnation.  "I  should  have  pre 
tended  to  believe  Bristow's  explanation  of  his  deal- 


82  SWALLOWED  UP 

ings  with  that  crook.  Then  I  wouldn't  be  caught  here 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  I  would  be  able  to  help  you." 

He  saw  a  smile — the  first  he  had  seen  on  her  face — 
dent  her  cheek. 

"I  think  I  like  you  better  that  you  didn't,"  she 
whispered.  "And  you  can  help  me  as  it  is.  You 
will  get  away,  I  am  sure.  You  must  get  away."  Her 
voice  was  still  low  but  passionately  vehement.  "You 
must  take  a  message  from  me.  I  will — " 

"Careful!"  he  warned  quickly.  "Miss  Copley  has 
come  out  and  is  looking  for  you."  He  slouched  back 
on  the  bench,  looking  more  bored  and  gloomily  ab 
stracted  than  ever. 

The  nurse  crossed  the  lawn  swiftly,  her  face  darken 
ing  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  two  on  the  rustic  seat. 

"Verna!"  she  called.  "Verna!"  There  was  an 
anxiety  bordering  on  panic  in  her  harsh,  unmodulated 
voice. 

The  girl  did  not  respond  at  once.  Then  she  started 
and  looked  about  her,  as  if  she  had  just  returned  from 
a  far  country  and  the  present  surroundings  were  un 
familiar.  But  at  another,  "Verna!"  she  rose  obe 
diently  and  held  out  the  note-book  and  pencil. 

"Look,"  she  said;  "see  all  I've  written.  He,"  with 
a  gesture  toward  Kelsey,  "gave  me  the  book  and 
pencil." 

"How  nice."  The  nurse  was  composed  again. 
"Now  give  them  back  to  him  dear,  and  come  in  the 
house.  I  have  a  hat  I  want  you  ta  try  on." 


CHAPTER  IX 

JUAREZ  CHARLIE  was  beginning  to  feel  op 
pressed  and  uneasy.  Three  days  had  passed  since 
the  hat  was  taken  out  of  Ranger's  car,  and  there 
had  been  no  succeeding  developments.  Again  and  again 
he  had  explored  the  straggling  neighborhood  where  he 
lived,  searching  each  fence-post  and  hoarding  for  an 
other  of  those  cabalistic  communications,  but  without 
results. 

On  the  fourth  morning  as,  after  another  fruitless 
hunt,  he  brought  out  the  motor-cycle  which  Ranger 
had  insisted  on  his  accepting  in  order  to  facilitate  his 
movements,  and  prepared  to  start  for  town,  he  had  the 
air  of  a  discredited  prophet  who  has  lost  honor  even 
with  himself.  The  very  brim  of  his  hat  drooped  on 
either  side  like  the  ears  of  a  friendless  cur. 

Not  that  he  had  any  misgivings  on  his  own  part. 
He  was  sure  that  sooner  or  later  the  Combine  would 
show  its  hand.  To  achieve  its  end,  it  had  to  follow 
definite  platted  lines.  But  Ranger  was  a  more  uncer 
tain  quantity.  He  had  no  fixed  trajectory.  He  could 
zig-zag;  and  with  his  patience  growing  thinner  every 
hour,  or  under  the  influence  of  ill-advised  friends,  was 
apt  to  do  so.  Ranger  was  the  sort  of  man  who  if  he 
did  not  see  the  wheels  going  around  fast  enough, 
always  itched  to  run  the  engine  himself.  Another 

83 


84  SWALLOWED  UP 

negative  report  might  start  him  off  on  a  tangent  that 
would  wreck  all  chances  of  recovering  the  missing 
girl. 

Responsibility  and  Charlie  had  always  been  at  odds  ; 
and  now  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  the  cares  he  had  so 
sedulously  side-stepped  had  piled  themselves  in  an  ac 
cumulated  load  upon  his  shoulders.  His  light  spirit 
sagged  under  the  burden. 

Like  a  schoolboy  bringing  home  an  unfavorable 
report  and  lagging  on  the  way,  he  trundled  slowly 
through  the  maze  of  Brooklyn's  streets  and  found  fre 
quent  excuse  to  stop  and  tinker  with  his  motor.  When 
he  finally  crossed  the  river  and  was  pointing  up  town, 
he  was  a  little  startled  to  notice  by  a  street  clock  he 
passed  that  it  was  twenty  minutes  after  one. 

Perhaps,  came  the  suggestion,  Loring  might  have 
left  the  factory — it  was  not  uncommon  for  him  to  go 
home  early  these  days  in  order  to  be  with  his  wife — 
and  thus  Charlie  would  be  spared  that  dejected  shake 
of  the  head,  that  weary  sigh  of  deferred  hope  which 
he  knew  would  greet  his  lack  of  news.  On  the  chance 
of  this  reprieve,  he  notched  up  his  pace  and  shifted  to 
a  more  direct  course. 

But  he  was  out  of  luck.  As  he  drew  up  before  the 
entrance  the  outer  guard  to  whom  he  was  now  a 
familiar  figure  waved  him  along  toward  the  office  with 
the  jocular  announcement  that  the  boss  had  been  just 
on  the  point  of  sending  out  a  general  alarm  for  him. 

Glumly  he  pushed  up  the  corridor  and  opened  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  85 

office  door;  then  stopped  short  on  the  threshold  and 
began  awkwardly  to  back  away. 

Inside,  Ranger  and  Eustace  Higby,  the  attorney, 
were  in  earnest  discussion  over  a  letter  which  Higby 
held  in  his  hand ;  while  over  by  the  window  stood  Mrs. 
Ranger  intently  studying  a  photograph,  moving  it  to 
catch  the  most  favorable  light,  hungrily  seeking  in  it 
more  than  the  camera  revealed — some  clue  in  the  flat, 
featureless  background,  some  message  in  the  pictured 
eyes  which  she  alone  could  divine  and  translate.  The 
tears  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  but  on  her  lips  was 
a  tremulous,  ecstatic  smile. 

The  slight  noise  made  by  Charlie's  intrusion  and 
his  mumbled  apologies  for  blundering  into  a  family 
group  roused  the  three  from  their  preoccupation; 
and  Ranger,  stepping  quickly  over,  caught  the  re 
treating  Juarez  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  into  the 
room. 

"It's  come,  Charlie !"  His  eyes  were  shining. 
"Just  as  you  said  it  would,  old  boy.  A  photograph 
and  the  demand  for  money.  Found  them  on  my  desk 
when  we  came  back  from  lunch."  In  his  excitement 
he  kept  on  pumping  Charlie's  arm  up  and  down  and 
patting  him  on  the  shoulder.  "You  called  the  turn, 
not  a  doubt  of  it.  It's  Hope  beyond  a  shadow  of 
question.  She's  alive,  man;  alive  and  well!  Look, 
you  can  see  for  yourself." 

He  pulled  Charlie  across  the  room  to  his  wife. 

"Mary  Lou,  this  is  Charlie." 


!86  SWALLOWED  UP 

She  dragged  her  gaze  from  the  snap-shot,  and  held 
the  picture  up  for  him  to  see. 

"It's  the  hat  all  right."  He  tried  to  throw  some  en 
thusiasm  into  his  voice;  but  this  atmosphere  of  jubi 
lation  left  him  feeling  dry  and  meager.  It  was,  as  he 
told  himself,  too  darned  premature.  Charlie  had  his 
superstitions. 

"Yes;  and  it's  Hope  too,"  Ranger  declared.  "We 
couldn't  be  fooled  on  that  point." 

"Oh,  yes;  it  is  certainly  Hope."  Mrs.  Ranger's 
voice  trembled  with  emotion.  "How  can  we  ever 

thank  you,  Mr. ?"  She  hesitated,  flushing  faintly. 

She  felt  that  she  ought  to  know  his  name,  and  yet  she 
could  not  remember  ever  having  heard  her  husband  use 
it.  She  compromised  hastily  on,  "Mr.  Juarez." 

Charlie  grinned.  On  the  whole,  her  choice  rather 
appealed  to  him.  That,  "Mr.  Juarez,"  had  a  wealthy, 
impressive  sound.  It  smacked  of  Cuban  sugar,  or 
Mexican  oil  wells,  or  something  of  the  sort.  He  rose 
to  it,  slightly  inflating  his  chest.  He  liked  Mrs. 
Ranger. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  have  the  chance  of  meeting 
you,  too,  Mr.  Juarez."  Higby  held  out  his  hand. 
"You've  been  the  sole  person  to  throw  any  light  on 
the  puzzle." 

Charlie  shook  off  the  praise  with  a  twist  of  his 
shoulder. 

"It's  no  more  than  any  snub-nosed  messenger  boy 
could  have  done  if  he  knew  the  hobo  language.  Be- 


SWALLOWED  UP  87 

sides,  it's  too  soon  to  be  handing  out  any  croix  de 
guerre.  We've  got  a  long,  rocky  road  before  us." 

"But  we've  got  a  start  on  it,"  Ranger  refused  to  be 
dashed;  "something  definite  to  go  on,  instead  of  the 
blank,  horrible  uncertainty." 

Charlie's  glance  flicked  over  the  three  sanguine 
faces  turned  toward  him.  He  had  tried  to  make  Ran 
ger  understand  in  advance  how  little  any  communica 
tion  from  these  tricksters  meant  as  a  guaranty  of 
Hope's  safe  return;  but  evidently  he  might  have  saved 
his  breath.  The  mere  certainty  that  the  girl  was  still 
living  had  brought  such  a  mercurial  rebound  from  their 
previous  despondency  and  suspense,  that  none  of  them 
could  see  anything  but  clear  sailing  ahead. 

In  Ranger  the  change  was  startling.  The  furrows 
in  his  face  seemed  miraculously  ironed  out;  his  voice 
was  fuller,  stronger;  his  shoulders  were  thrown  back 
with  something  of  his  old  robust  assurance.  And  his 
wife's  gaze  was  glowing,  uplifted.  Even  the  spare, 
self-contained  lawyer  showed  his  relief  from  the 
tension. 

He  was  no  crape-hanger,  Charlie  told  himself;  yet 
what  real  encouragement  could  he  offer?  He  shuf 
fled  his  feet  in  embarrassment  and,  bending  over  the 
photograph  again,  pretended  to  study  it  closely. 

"It's  the  hat  all  right,"  he  repeated. 

"That  absurd  hat!''  Mrs.  Ranger  smiled  depreca- 
tingly.  "And  yet  you  were  right  about  it,  Mr.  Juarez. 
It  does  prove  conclusively  that  the  picture  was  taken 


88  SWALLOWED  UP 

within  a  day  or  two,  doesn't  it?"  She  hung  over  his 
shoulder  as  if  she  could  not  bear  the  likeness  from  her 
sight.  "And  see;  she  is  looking  well,  not  at  all  as  if 
she  were  ill-treated,  or — or  deprived  of  anything. 
She  is  actually  laughing.  Laughing!  How  can  she, 
when  she  must  know  what  we  have  suffered?" 

"They  snapped  her  when  she  wasn't  expecting  it,  I 
guess,"  Charlie  explained;  "and  she's  laughing  at  her 
self  in  that  sky-piece.  Who  wouldn't?  You  don't 
want  to  think  anything  of  that,  ma'am." 

"Oh,  I  don't.  I  don't.  I  am  only  too  rejoiced  to 
know  that  it  is  she.  Hope!  Hope!"  She  crooned 
the  name.  "And  it  will  be  only  a  little  while  now 
until  she  is  home  in  our  arms.  You  believe  that,  don't 
you,  Mr.  Juarez?" 

"Sure."  Charlie  tried  to  throw  a  full,  round  note  of 
absolute  conviction  into  his  voice,  and  didn't  quite  suc 
ceed.  To  his  relief  Ranger  reminded  him  just  then 
that  he  had  not  yet  read  the  letter. 

He  took  it,  ran  over  it  perfunctorily,  and  laid  it 
back  on  the  desk  without  comment. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?"  Ranger  was  growing  a 
little  impatient  at  this  indirectness. 

Charlie  cocked  his  eye  at  the  ceiling,  and  made  an 
heroic  attempt  to  look  thoughtful. 

"Seems  fairly  plain,"  he  said.  "They  tell  you,  if 
you  leave  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  under  a  rail 
road  crossing  on  the  Lone  Hill  road  at  four  o'clock  to 
morrow  afternoon,  your  daughter  will  be  returned; 


SWALLOWED  UP  89 

and  they  warn  you  that  if  you  fail,  or  try  10  double- 
cross  them  in  any  way,  you'll  never  see  her  again. 
That's  about  all  there  is  to  it,  so  far  as  I  can  see." 

"I  know.  I  know.  But  it's  struck  me  that  some 
thing  might  be  gleaned  from  it  beyond  the  mere  mes 
sage.  It's  typewritten  and  on  a  plain  paper;  but  an 
expert  might  find  a  clue  in  the  typing,  or  from  a  water 
mark,  or  something  of  the  kind." 

"Maybe,"  Charlie  agreed  uninterestedly.  He  knew 
the  Combine  would  never  be  caught  in  any  such  puer 
ile  lapses. 

But  the  suggestion  brought  an  agitated  protest  from 
Mrs.  Ranger. 

"No !  No !"  she  cried.  "I  will  not  listen  to  it,  Lor- 
ing.  I  will  not  allow  any  risks  to  be  taken.  Their 
conditions  must  be  met  to  the  letter.  Don't  you  agree 
with  me,  Mr.  Juarez?" 

Charlie  evaded.  He  was  no  detective,  he  muttered. 
He  was  only  too  glad  to  give  any  aid  he  could,  but  it 
was  up  to  Loring  and  herself  to  decide  the  course  that 
should  be  followed. 

Higby,  more  astute  than  the  others,  realized  that  he 
was  not  going  to  be  led  into  expressing  his  real  opinion 
in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Ranger,  and  tactfully  succeeded 
in  getting  her  to  leave  with  him. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief,  Charlie  sank  into  a  chair  and 
busied  himself  in  rolling  a  succession  of  cigarettes. 

"Perhaps  a  finger-print  man  could  help  us  ?"  Ranger 
was  still  dwelling  on  this  theme.  "That  letter  and  the 


9o  SWALLOWED  UP 

photograph  must  have  been  handled  by  the  person  who 
put  them  in  the  envelope,  and  it  might  be — ?" 

At  last  Charlie  could  unleash  himself. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Lorry,  come  down  to  the  solid 
old  earth,  and  stop  floating  around  in  the  clouds  like  a 
balloon.  How  do  you  expect  me  to  think,  while  you 
are  shooting  that  'dear  Watson'  hokum  at  me  ?  We've 
got  to  plan  something,  and  plan  it  quick." 

"Just  what  I  was  trying  to  do,"  defensively.  "I'm 
excited  of  course.  This  news  means  everything  to  us. 
Hope's  alive !  She's  in  the  same  world  we  are !  It's 
like  lifting  a  weight  of  tons  from  us.  But  I'm  not 
forgetting  the  anguish  those  scoundrels  have  caused  us, 
and,  by  God,  they'll  pay  for  it.  This  message  means, 
they're  beginning  to  get  scared,  and — " 

Charlie  leaned  forward. 

"Good  Lord,  Lorry!"  There  was  actual  entreaty 
in  his  voice.  "Won't  you  understand?  Won't  you 
realize  what  we  are  up  against?  You  talk  about 
making  those  people  pay,  and  sit  here  weaving  kinder 
garten  schemes  to  trap  them ;  and  all  the  time  they've 
got  you  sewed  up  tighter  than  a  drum.  They've  got 
your  daughter  in  their  hands,  and  they  tell  you  plainly 
that  if  you  don't  come  across  with  a  hundred  grand  by 
to-morrow — and  play  square  with  them  too — you'll 
never  see  her  again.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about 
that?" 

Ranger  flinched  for  a  moment  before  this  vigorous 
presentation,  but  he  rallied. 


SWALLOWED  UP  91 

"Why,  if  I  can't  do  anything  else,  I'll  deposit  the 
bonds  as  directed,  and  then  have  enough  men  close  at 
hand  to  nab  whoever  comes  after  them." 

"And  you  expect  'em  to  walk  unsuspectingly  right 
into  your  bunch  of  nabbers?  Lorry!  Lorry!  A 
Wop  kidnaper  from  the  East  Side  would  know  better 
than  to  fall  for  a  game  like  that.  Do  you  know  this 
place  where  you're  supposed  to  plant  the  bonds?" 

"Certainly.  Behind  a  loose  stone  in  the  archway 
where  the  Lone  Hill  road  runs  under  the  railroad 
tracks." 

"Got  a  picture  of  the  locality  in  your  mind?" 

"I  know  it  well ;  travel  that  way  every  time  I  motor 
out  to  our  place  in  Westchester." 

"So  do  I  know  it."  Charlie's  mouth  widened  comi 
cally.  "Got  chased  through  there  once  by  a  farmer's 
watch-dog.  And,  if  you'll  remember,  you've  got  to  be 
pretty  nearly  inside  the  archway  before  you  can  tell 
what's  going  on  there.  So,  with  dozens  of  automo 
biles  of  all  kinds  passing  along  that  road  all  the  time, 
your  watchers  would  have  to  be  planted  practically  in 
plain  view  to  see  the  one  that  stops  and  gets  the  jack." 

Ranger,  when  he  gave  it  thought,  could  not  well 
deny  the  strength  of  the  objection.  His  head  dropped, 
the  worried  lines  began  to  reappear  in  his  face. 

"And  now,  this."  Charlie  caught  up  the  letter  from 
the  Combine.  "You  say,  you  found  it  on  your  desk 
when  you  came  back  from  luncheon.  Any  idea  how 
it  got  there?" 


92  SWALLOWED  UP 

"I  meant  to  speak  about  that."  Ranger's  mouth 
tightened  ominously.  "I've  had  everybody  in  the 
building  questioned,  but  no  one  admits  being  near  the 
office." 

"What  does  Bryan  say?" 

"I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  talk  to  him  yet.  He  left 
before  I  did  to  go  to  Newark,  and  hasn't  got  back  yet. 
I  don't  see — "  He  shook  his  head  perplexedly.  "But 
anyhow,"  he  grew  grim  again,  "I'm  going  to  give  him 
his  walking  papers — on  suspicion." 

"I  wouldn't,"  Charlie  demurred.  "You  want  a 
fellow  of  that  kind  where  you  can  keep  an  eye  on  him. 
Show  him  this  letter  and  consult  him  about  it.  You 
won't  learn  anything,  but  it  will  make  him  feel  easy. 
Then  raise  his  salary.  Tell  him  you  want  to  show 
your  appreciation  of  his  faithful  services." 

"Not  on  your  life!  Instead,  I'm  going  to  have  him 
grilled  by  the  police.  He'll  \veaken,  you'll  see ;  and 
we'll  probably  find  out  something." 

"From  Bryan?"  contemptuously.  "Don't  ever 
dream,  Lorry,  that  he's  anything  but  a  mere  blind  tool 
for  these  people,  a  cat's-paw.  They're  not  taking  lads 
of  Frank's  caliber  into  their  inner  councils.  As  I 
told  you  before,  it's  brains  we're  up  against;  big,  ex 
ecutive,  conscienceless  brains.  So  don't  imagine  you'll 
ever  trip  them  up  with  any  cute,  little,  detective-story 
wrinkles.  This  isn't  a  paper-chase;  it's  war.  I  told 
you  they  were  out  for  your  whole  roll;  and  this  de 
mand  for  a  hundred  thousand  is  only  their  opening 


SWALLOWED  UP  93 

gun.  You'll  see.  We're  facing  a  campaign  where 
every  chance  has  been  foreseen  and  every  move 
planned  down  to  the  last  detail  by  a  staff  of  experts. 
All  that  you  can  do  is  get  your  packet  of  bonds  ready 
and  kiss  them  good-by." 

Ranger  struggled  up  to  his  feet. 

"Are  you  telling  me  that  I've  got  to  make  a  present 
of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  those  brutes,  with 
still  no  chance  of  seeing  Hope?"  He  began  angrily, 
but  ended  with  an  appeal  in  his  breaking  voice. 

"You  only  lose  the  first  trick  to  them,  that's  all." 
Charlie  meant  to  be  consoling.  "And  maybe  we  can 
save  that."  But  his  thoughts  were  plainly  far  away. 
He  rose,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  motion 
ing  Ranger  to  silence. 

"I've  got  an  idea,  Lorry,"  he  said  at  last;  "but  I 
don't  want  to  talk  about  it,  even  to  you.  You  just 
follow  instructions — you've  got  to  anyhow,  Airs. 
Ranger  won't  stand  for  anything  else — and  place  those 
bonds  as  they've  told  you.  Then  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"But  you  will  need  help  of  some  sort?"  Ranger 
puckered  his  brows.  "You're  not  going  to  tackle  this 
crowd  alone,  single-handed?" 

"Well,  not  exactly,"  drawled  Charlie.  "You  used 
to  go  to  the  races  considerably,  I  remember.  Then, 
if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  like  to  borrow  a  stop-watch  and 
a  pair  of  field-glasses." 


CHAPTER  X 

WHERE  the  Lone  Hill  road,  one  of  West- 
chester  County's  main  traveled  thorough 
fares,  dips  under  the  railroad  tracks,  it 
passes  through  an  archway  of  masonry  between  fifty 
and  seventy-five  feet  long ;  and  as  this  archway  is  high 
enough  to  accommodate  a  load  of  hay,  and  the  sur 
rounding  country  is  one  of  level  fields,  the  approach  on 
either  side  is  through  a  steep,  walled  cut. 

Moreover,  since  both  north  and  south  of  the  cross 
ing  the  road  curves  almost  at  right  angles  so  as  to  run 
parallel  with  the  tracks,  the  Combine  showed  undeni 
able  strategy  in  designating  this  as  a  cache  for  the 
ransom. 

As  Juarez  Charlie  had  pointed  out  to  Ranger,  any 
one  to  see  the  packet  of  bonds  removed  would  have  to 
be  practically  inside  the  tunnel-like  archway.  There 
was  no  place  along  either  approach,  or  any  spot  com 
manding  a  view  of  the  interior  where  a  watcher  could 
conceal  himself.  And  of  course  the  presence  of  a 
loiterer  in  the  neighboring  fields  or  along  the  tracks 
would  only  serve  to  warn  the  spoilers  off. 

But  Charlie  thought  he  saw  a  way  to  get  around  even 
these  unpromising  conditions.  He  did  not  go  home 
that  night  after  leaving  Ranger's  office,  but  instead 
registered  at  a  cheap  East  Side  hotel  where  he  spent 

94 


SWALLOWED  UP  95 

the  evening  in  an  exhaustive  study  of  an  automobile 
road-map  of  Westchester  County. 

About  two  o'clock  he  came  down  stairs  and  passed 
out,  casually  remarking  to  the  night  clerk  that  he  was 
wakeful  and  thought  he  would  take  a  walk  before  he 
turned  in. 

At  a  garage  eight  or  ten  blocks  away  where  he  had 
left  his  motor-cycle,  he  got  it,  and  chugged  briskly  over 
the  Williamsburg  bridge  as  if  heading  for  his  lodgings. 
On  the  other  side,  though,  he  deviated  from  the  direct 
route,  and  twisted  aimlessly  through  a  succession  of 
ill-lighted,  tenement  streets  until  he  was  sure  he  had 
thrown  off  any  one  who  might  be  trying  to  trail  him, 
when  he  turned  north,  and  crossed  back  to  Manhattan 
by  way  of  the  Queensboro  bridge  at  Fifty-ninth  street. 

Speeding  up  then,  with  the  assurance  that  there  was 
no  further  need  for  caution,  he  took  a  straight  course 
out  through  the  Bronx  and  up  into  Westchester. 

Dawn  found  him  at  a  little  patch  of  woods  along  the 
railroad  track  about  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  arch 
way  at  the  Lone  Hill  road  crossing,  where  the  ashes  of 
a  burned-out  camp-fire  and  a  scattered  litter  of  rags, 
newspapers,  old  tin  cans  and  worn-out  shoes  betokened 
a  hobo  "jungle." 

Beside  it  ran  a  back  road,  little  more  than  a  wagon- 
track,  crossing  the  railroad  here  on  the  level,  and  fork 
ing  into  the  Lone  Hill  road  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond. 
From  his  study  of  the  map,  he  knew  that  this  by-way 
again  intersected  the  main  road  about  a  mile  and  a  half 


96  SWALLOWED  UP 

above,  and  he  remembered  that  it  was  marked  as  rough 
and  bumpy  but  passable  for  machines  in  case  of 
emergency. 

The  wise  campaigner,  though,  leaves  nothing  to 
chance.  In  order  to  make  sure  that  it  was  open  and 
without  obstructions,  Charlie  rode  out  to  the  inter 
section  with  the  Lone  Hill  road  and  circled  back  by 
way  of  this  to  his  starting  point. 

In  the  archway  at  the  railroad  crossing  he  dis 
mounted  to  take  a  look  at  the  place  designated  as  a 
depository  for  the  Liberty  bonds,  and  from  the  in 
structions  in  the  letter  found  no  difficulty  in  locating 
it  Just  about  midway  of  the  tunnel  and  at  the  height 
of  a  man's  shoulder,  there  was  a  discolored  streak  on 
the  masonry  caused  by  dampness,  and  the  mortar  had 
crumbled  from  around  one  of  the  stones,  leaving  it 
loose. 

Testing  it  with  his  fingers,  Charlie  found  the 
block  easy  to  lift  out.  Behind  it  was  a  crevice,  shal 
low  but  still  large  enough  to  hold  a  package  of  se 
curities. 

The  operation  of  opening  up  this  makeshift  vault, 
seizing  the  contents,  and  putting  the  stone  back  in 
place  could  all  be  accomplished  within  a  minute ;  and 
owing  to  the  peculiar  conditions  of  the  place,  without 
risk  of  interference  or  detection.  One  had  only  to 
choose  a  moment  when  no  one  else  was  near  the  arch 
way. 

Satisfied  at  this  confirmation  of  his  previous  con- 


SWALLOWED  UP  97 

elusions,  Charlie  climbed  back  on  his  motor-cycle,  and 
returned  to  the  "jungle."  He  appeared,  as  he  had 
expected,  to  have  it  wholly  to  himself.  This  was  a 
season  when  its  nomadic  habitues  were  more  apt  to 
be  in  the  West,  following  in  the  wake  of  circuses  and 
street  fairs,  or  answering  the  need  for  harvest  hands. 
The  ashes  of  the  last  camp-fire  were  at  least  three 
weeks  cold. 

Nevertheless,  as  a  proper  measure  of  precaution,  he 
scouted  through  the  entire  patch  of  woods,  and  as  the 
light  grew  stronger  climbed  a  tree  to  reconnoiter  the 
surrounding  country. 

There  was  nothing  to  suggest  that  he  had  been 
followed  or  observed.  He  had  not  met  or  seen  any 
one  on  his  tour  of  investigation,  and  now  the  only 
sign  of  life  or  motion  he  could  discern  was  the  rousing 
up  of  some  cows  in  a  pasture  to  the  left  and  a  blue 
spiral  of  smoke  from  a  farm-house  chimney,  indicating 
the  lighting  of  the  kitchen  fire. 

He  slid  down  from  the  tree,  and  after  hiding  his 
motor-cycle  carefully  under  a  pile  of  brush,  laid  down 
in  a  sandy  hollow  and  pulling  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
prepared  to  sleep. 

"Old  home  week,"  he  muttered  drowsily.  "Been 
quite  some  time  since  I  stretched  myself  on  one  of  these 
gay-cat  chaise  tongues;  but  I'll  bet  the  sand  sifts 
down  the  back  of  your  neck  and  the  crickets  crawl  into 
your  ears,  just  in  the  same  old  way." 

His   grumbling,   though,   was  like  that  of  an  old 


98  SWALLOWED  UP 

soldier,  more  a  matter  of  habit  than  of  actual  dissatis 
faction.  Within  five  minutes  he  was  snoring. 

When  he  awoke  several  hours  later,  the  sun  was 
warm  on  him,  and  he  lay  luxuriously  for  a  while 
listening  to  the  varied  and  various  wood  sounds,  all 
long  familiar  to  him.  Finally  he  rolled  over  and 
pulled  out  his  watch.  It  was  almost  eleven  o'clock. 

"Ah,  Gibbs!"  he  addressed  an  imaginary  valet. 
"Time  to  get  up,  eh?" 

Charlie  was  inherently  loquacious.  It  was  as 
natural  and  necessary  for  him  to  talk  as  to  breathe; 
and  in  lieu  of  other  companionship,  he  often  fell  back 
in  his  hours  of  solitude  on  characters  of  his  own  cre 
ation.  The  valet,  an  old  favorite,  was  a  composite  of 
the  many  gentlemen's  gentlemen  Charlie  had  seen  on 
the  stage  or  met  in  fiction,  and  was,  as  might  be  ex 
pected,  conventional  almost  to  the  point  of  gaminess. 

"And  what  sort  of  a  morning  is  it,  Gibbs?"  he  now 
inquired. 

Gibbs  in  the  person  of  Charlie  replied  that,  begging 
his  pardon,  it  was  fair  and  warmer. 

"In  that  case,"  Charlie  decided,  "you  need  not  bother 
to  fill  my  tub  for  me  this  morning.  Just  hustle  in  the 
grapefruit,  will  you,  and  start  the  percolator  going. 
Then,  while  I  am  breakfasting,  you  may  lay  out  my 
dark  morning  suit.  Yes;  the  dark  one,"  as  if  meet 
ing  an  objection.  "I  know  the  light  gray  or  the  mixed 
is  more  in  harmony  with  the  weather,  but  I  have  a  spe 
cial  reason  for  wishing  to  appear  unobtrusive  to-day." 


SWALLOWED  UP  99 

As  he  talked,  he  was  munching  at  a  sandwich  he 
had  taken  from  his  pocket,  and  washing  it  down  with 
draughts  of  coffee  from  a  thermos  bottle  which  was 
a  part  of  the  equipment  of  his  motorcycle. 

"Excellent  grilled  kidneys,"  he  observed;  "but  this 
brew  is  hardly  up  to  the  mark.  Somehow,  it  doesn't 
have  the  kick  that  the  'jungle'  coffee  used  to  have — near- 
lye  boiled  in  an  old  tomato-can.  But  I  am  forgetting, 
Gibbs ;  how  could  you  be  expected  to  know  'bo  cuisine? 
Hand  me  my  stick  and  gloves,  will  you,  my  good  fel 
low,  and  we'll  say  nothing  more  about  it.  I  must  be 
on  my  way  to  an  appointment  in  a  rather  elevated 
quarter." 

He  folded  up  his  package  of  sandwiches,  corked  the 
thermos  bottle;  and  rising,  swung  himself  up  with 
a  good  deal  of  agility  into  the  tree  under  which  he  had 
been  sitting. 

It  was  a  tall  maple  out  in  full  leaf,  and  Charlie 
climbed  from  branch  to  branch  until  he  found  a  crotch 
where  well  concealed  by  the  thick  foliage  he  could  yet 
look  over  the  tops  of  the  surrounding  trees  and  gain 
a  clear  view  of  the  Lone  Hill  road  as  it  ran  to  the 
railroad  crossing  and  beyond  on  the  other  side.  At 
this  hour,  although  the  traffic  was  not  what  could  be 
called  thick,  the  motors  were  flashing  by  in  a  fairly 
regular  procession. 

Unslinging  his  field-glasses,  which  he  carried  on 
the  opposite  side  from  the  thermos  bottle,  and  taking 
out  his  stop-watch,  Charlie  fell  to  studying  these  care- 


ioo  SWALLOWED  UP 

fully,  timing  them  over  a  stretch  marked  off  by  tele 
graph  poles. 

"You  may  think  I'm  in  training  for  the  tin  star  of  a 
country  constable,  Gibbs,"  he  confided,  for  on  second 
thought  he  had  decided  to  take  the  convenient  valet 
with  him  to  his  watch-tower ;  "a  Nemesis  for  speeding 
motorists.  But  you'd  be  wrong,  old  thing.  I'm 
merely  clocking  these  birds  to  find  out  how  long  at  the 
gait  they  are  traveling  it  should  take  them  to  negotiate 
the  crossing  under  the  railroad  track,  from  the  time 
they  disappear  into  the  cut  on  this  side  until  they  show 
up  again  on  the  other. 

"Take  that  lad  coming  along  now  for  instance." 
He  bent  his  glasses  on  a  yellow  roadster.  "Stepping 
on  her  a  bit,  I'll  say.  Yes,"  as  the  roadster  completed 
the  marked  course;  "he's  hitting  pretty  close  to  fifty 
miles  an  hour.  Now  let's  see  how  long  he  takes  to  the 
cut."  His  thumb  pressed  the  stem  of  the  stop-watch 
as  the  yellow  car  dipped  down  into  the  hollow,  and 
pressed  again  as  it  reappeared.  "Thirty-seven  and  a 
fifth  seconds,"  he  announced. 

"And  now  let's  test  the  sedan,"  as  a  more  leisurely 
driven  car  appeared  from  the  other  direction.  "She's 
running  at  twenty.  And,"  as  it  came  up  out  of  the 
cut,  "she  took  just  exactly  a  minute  and  a  half. 

"You  begin  to  catch  the  idea  now,  don't  you,  Gibbs? 
If  any  car  stays  longer  in  that  cut  than  its  speed 
warrants,  there's  going  to  be  some  question  in  our 
minds  about  it,  don't  you  think;  especially  if  it  chooses 


SWALLOWED  UP  101 

a  time  when  it  has  the  road  all  to  itself.  Old  Mr. 
Combine  is  pretty  smooth,"  he  plumed  himself  vain- 
gloriously;  "but  I'll  bet  they  never  took  this  into  their 
calculations.  It  needed  a  Juarez  Charlie  to  figure  that 
out.  Some  bean,  eh,  Gibbs? 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  "what  we're  doing  now 
is  only  practise.  Loring  hasn't  planted  the  bait  yet, 
and  there  won't  be  any  real  trout-fishing  until  after 
that's  been  set.  But  I've  tried  the  thing  out  enough 
to  know  that  we've  got  the  right  dope.  We're  going 
to  land  'em,  young  fellow,  me  lad.  You  mark  my 
words,  we're  going  to  land  'em !" 

The  hours  passed  on.  The  sun  had  crossed  the 
zenith  and  declined  toward  the  west.  With  the  aid 
of  the  fictitious  Gibbs,  Charlie  in  his  leafy  retreat  dis 
posed  of  an  almost  equally  fictitious  luncheon,  his 
remaining  sandwiches  and  what  was  left  of  the  coffee 
in  his  thermos  bottle  glorified  into  an  elaborate  menu. 

The  rest  of  the  time  he  put  in  at  timing  automobiles. 

With  the  wearing  on  of  the  afternoon,  the  number 
of  these  increased.  The  cars  came  sometimes  in  flocks, 
or  in  long,  almost  unbroken  strings;  yet  there  were 
often  intervals  when  for  a  while  none  would  pass. 

"It's  on  occasions  like  these,  Gibbs,"  Charlie  admon 
ished,  "that  we  want  to  keep  our  eyes  peeled  the  widest. 
Then's  when  they'll  do  their  collecting." 

At  half -past  three,  Ranger's  big  touring-car  came 
along  from  the  direction  of  town.  Through  the 
glasses,  Charlie  could  recognize  the  figure  of  the  manu- 


102  SWALLOWED  UP 

facturer  himself  in  the  driver's  seat.  He  was  quite 
alone;  and  as  he  neared  the  crossing,  seemed  to  be 
glancing  to  right  and  left. 

"Wondering  what  I'm  up  to,  I  guess,"  chuckled 
Charlie.  "He  never  dreams,  Gibbs,  that  we're  cozily 
perched  up  here,  piping  off  every  little  move  that  he 
makes.  And  since  Loring  is  nobody's  fool,  it  follows 
that  the  Combine  won't  dream  it  any  more  than  he 
does." 

Yet  his  complacency  did  not  keep  him  from  very 
carefully  timing  the  pace  of  the  car  as  it  swept  along 
over  the  marked  course. 

As  it  happened  there  was  nothing  else  in  sight  when 
Ranger  reached  the  cut,  and  he  drove  straight  ahead. 

"At  the  rate  he's  traveling,  he  ought  to  be  out  in 
one  minute  and  seventeen  seconds,"  Charlie  calculated. 
"We'll  get  a  line  now,  Gibbs,  on  just  how  long  it  takes 
to  pull  out  that  stone  and  put  it  back  again." 

But  it  was  almost  five  minutes  before  Ranger  re 
appeared  on  the  further  side  of  the  crossing. 

"He'd  be  careful  and  a  little  slow,"  Charlie  reflected; 
"so  that's  no  fair  criterion.  I'd  say,  though,  Gibbs, 
that  anything  that  stayed  down  there  longer  than  two 
minutes  was  a  pretty  safe  bet  to  follow  up." 

He  settled  down  now  to  unrelaxed  watchfulness. 
A  long  string  of  cars  came  along  from  out  of  town, 
then  an  almost  equally  long  string  from  the  opposite 
direction ;  a  couple  of  trucks ;  and  then  from  the  north 
a  lone  flivver  containing  two  men. 


SWALLOWED  UP  103 

At  the  sight  of  it,  some  instinct  seemed  to  warn 
Charlie.  He  crouched  to  a  keener  attention  and  never 
took  his  eyes  off  it. 

Just  before  it  reached  the  cut,  a  trio  of  motors 
came  up  from  the  south  and  the  flivver  stopped,  its 
driver  getting  out  to  fuss  with  the  engine. 

The  three  cars  came  up  and  passed.  Nothing  else 
was  in  sight  in  either  direction.  The  driver  of  the 
flivver  climbed  quickly  back  into  his  seat  and  started 
for  the  cut. 

"Two  minutes  is  all  I  can  allow  them  at  the  most," 
Charlie  whispered  excitedly. 

The  long  indicator  of  the  stop-watch  swept  around 
its  circle.  One  minute  gone.  Another  round,  and 
still  the  car  staid  down  in  the  cut.  Before  it  came  into 
view  again,  there  had  elapsed  exactly  three  minutes 
and  twenty  seconds. 

Hardly  did  the  top  of  it  appear  over  the  edge  of 
the  dip  before  Charlie,  slipping  the  stop-watch  into  his 
pocket,  swung  down  through  the  branches. 

"Come  on,  Gibbs!"  he  panted.  "That's  our  meat 
for  sure!" 

He  rushed  across  the  "jungle,"  and  jerking  his 
motor-cycle  out  from  under  its  concealing  pile  of  brush, 
pulled  it  into  the  road.  But  when  he  attempted  to 
start,  he  found  the  mechanism  gone  dead.  Impatiently 
he  leaned  over  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  found 
to  his  amazement  that  the  spark  plug  was  missing. 
Hastily  he  rummaged  in  his  tool-bag  for  another ;  but 


104  SWALLOWED  UP 

although  he  would  have  sworn  he  had  three  spare  plugs, 
there  was  none  to  be  found. 

Then  he  suddenly  froze.  On  the  flap  of  the  tool- 
bag  was  chalked  a  rude  "X"  within  a  circle — the 
sign  of  the  Combine. 

Staggered  and  dismayed,  he  sank  down  at  the  edge 
of  the  roadside,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
Never  in  all  his  irresponsible,  vagabond  life,  had 
Charlie  known  such  a  sense  of  utter,  crushing  defeat, 
such  a  feeling  of  raw  incompetence. 

The  thing  was  plain  enough  to  him  now.  In 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  at  camouflage,  his  artful  twists 
and  turns,  the  agents  of  the  Combine  had  evidently 
succeeded  in  trailing  him  to  the  "jungle,"  and  there 
while  he  slept,  had  effectively  put  him  out  of  the  run 
ning.  All  that  day,  as  perched  in  the  tree  he  had 
boasted  his  cunning,  they  had  held  him  contemptuously 
scratched  from  the  need  of  consideration.  Mentally 
he  crowned  himself,  "King  of  the  Boobs." 

"Leave  it  to  me,"  he  had  told  Ranger.  And  now 
the  hundred  thousand  dollars  was  gone,  sunk  without 
a  trace ;  and  worse,  a  precious  chance  was  lost  to  solve 
the  enigma  of  Hope's  whereabouts.  What  was  he  to 
say  to  Loring,  how  tell  him  of  this  miserable  failure? 

Charlie  cast  up  his  eyes,  as  he  himself  would 
have  expressed  it,  like  a  dying  duck,  and  wretchedly 
shook  his  head.  He  was  facing  down  the  by-road  to 
ward  its  junction  with  the  Lone  Hill  road  on  the  other 
side  of  the  railway;  and  now  there  swept  across  his 
field  of  vision  the  suspected  flivver. 


SWALLOWED  UP  105 

Driven  hard  in  its  progress  toward  town,  it  had 
covered  the  distance  down  from  the  archway  during 
the  two  or  three  minutes  that  he  had  spent  in  lamenta 
tion.  Charlie's  plan  had  been  to  lead  it  along  the 
highway  on  his  motor-cycle  and  let  it  overtake  and  pass 
him,  so  as  not  to  give  the  suggestion  of  pursuit.  Now 
the  sight  of  it,  spinning  triumphantly  by,  only  added 
poignancy  to  his  humiliation. 

Then  suddenly  his  fingers  went  fumbling  at  the 
leather  case  which  held  his  field-glasses.  He  noticed 
that  the  rear  left  wheel  of  the  flivver  carried  a  new 
tire,  and  remembering  that  the  Lone  Hill  Road  had 
just  been  freshly  oiled,  it  gave  him  a  new  idea. 

He  jumped  to  his  feet  and  leveled  his  glasses  on  the 
flivver's  whirling  wheels.  A  little  thrill  of  hope  woke 
in  him.  His  eyes  had  not  been  mistaken.  The  three 
old  tires  had  a  smooth  tread;  that  of  the  fourth  was 
corrugated.  Perhaps — perhaps  it  might  be  possible 
to  follow  that  spoor  on  the  oily  roadway. 

He  bent  another  look  through  the  glasses  at  the  back 
of  the  receding  car  to  ta'ke  the  number  on  its  license- 
board.  It  was  2,155,633. 

"You  never  can  tell."  He  screwed  up  his  lips. 
"Chances  are  that  it's  a  false  number  but  they  mightn't 
have  forgotten  to  shift.  Anyhow,  that  and  the  tire- 
tracks  are  the  only  clues  I've  got,  and  I'll  take  'em  for 
what  they're  worth." 

So,  pushing  the  crippled  motor-cycle  beside  him,  he 
hurried  on  in 'the  flivver's  wake. 


CHAPTER  XI 

DR.  BRISTOW  was  sitting  at  his  desk  in  the 
outer  office  of  his  suite  going  over  a  pile  of 
letters.  It  was  here  that  he  received  visitors 
who  came  to  make  arrangements  for  the  accommo 
dation  of  relatives  or  friends,  and  conducted  the  ex 
amination  of  prospective  patients. 

A  handsome  room,  almost  stately,  with  warm,  sub 
dued  tones  blending  in  a  rich  harmony.  The  massive 
pieces  of  furniture  were  of  old  Welsh  oak  beautifully 
carved.  Everything — the  fine  rugs,  many  books, 
and  admirably  chosen  pictures  and  ornaments — 
showed  a  cultivated  taste  and  a  nice  appreciation  of 
values.  It  gave  the  Doctor,  as  he  knew  perfectly, 
exactly  the  right  background,  dignified,  successful, 
confidence-inspiring — the  background  of  a  scholar 
and  a  gentleman. 

The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  had  just  struck  nine, 
and  Bristow's  brows  puckered  as  he  surveyed  the 
accumulation  of  mail  yet  to  be  considered.  He  had 
sat  down  to  it  immediately  after  dinner  and  was  still 
not  half  through.  Any  sort  of  literary  composition, 
even  the  answering  of  a  letter,  was  a  job  he  detested, 
and  he  would  put  it  off  until  the  last  possible  moment. 

As  he  picked  up  the  next  envelope  and  drew  out  its 
enclosure,  there  came  a  tap  on  the  door.  Before  he 

106 


SWALLOWED  UP  107 

could  respond,  this  was  pushed  open  and  Anita  Copley 
entered. 

"Ah,  Anita!"  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
"Strictly  on  time,  and  I've  scarcely  begun.  Vile  nui 
sance,  this  sort  of  thing.  No  more  of  it  for  me  to 
night  anyway.  Well,"  he  thrust  the  pile  of  letters 
away  from  him  and  turned  toward  her,  "how  is  the 
little  sister  to-day?" 

"Just  the  same."  She  helped  herself  to  a  cigarette, 
lighted  it,  and  sank  far  down  in  an  easy-chair,  stretch 
ing  her  feet  out  before  her.  "I've  put  her  to  bed  and 
locked  the  door  on  her;  she  won't  stir.  She  doesn't 
even  get  up  in  the  morning  until  I  tell  her  to.  She 
seems  slower,  stupider  every  day.  Her  writing,  too, 
is  awful — more  incoherent." 

He  nodded.  "She's  strong  physically,  though. 
By  the  way,  has  she  been  hanging  around  Kelsey  any 
more?  I  found  her  sitting  under  the  trees  with  him 
the  other  day.  I  didn't  like  the  combination,  although 
I  don't  believe  anything  had  passed  between  them." 

"She's  forgotten  him,"  Anita  was  positive.  "No 
tices  him  no  more  than  she  does  any  one  else.  He 
gave  her  a  pencil  and  paper  that  day,  and  she 
staid  put  because  she  hadn't  sense  enough  to  move 
on." 

"That's  all  right  then."  Bristow  dropped  the  sub 
ject;  his  mind  had  turned  in  another  direction. 
"Speaking  of  Kelsey,  though,  I  think  I  can  use  him." 

He  picked  out  a  letter  from  among  those  he  had 


i o8  SWALLOWED  UP 

read,  and  tossed  it  across  the  desk  to  her.  It  was  a 
request  from  a  well-known  magazine  for  a  series  of 
popular  articles  covering  modern  methods  of  dealing 
with  the  insane,  and  named  a  handsome  figure  as 
payment. 

"That  is  worth  considering,"  he  said,  "not  only  for 
its  advertising  value,  but  because  it  gives  me  a  prestige, 
a  cachet  of  high  authority  that  it  is  wise  to  cultivate. 
A  reputation  of  that  sort  might  stand  us  in  very  good 
stead  one  of  these  days. 

"But,  Lord!"  He  scowled.  "I'd  rather  be  hung 
than  tackle  it.  It  means  no  end  of  research,  consult 
ing  the  authorities,  taking  reams  of  notes,  and  then  on 
top  of  it  all,  the  work  of  writing.  Not  for  me !  I 
had  just  about  decided  to  write  and  refuse,  when  I 
happened  to  think  of  Kelsey.  He  is  fresh  from  the 
schools,  up  in  all  the  new  theories,  and  in  addition  has 
a  knack  of  expressing  himself  on  paper.  I  could 
bring  him  in  here,  and ' 

"Kelsey?"  Anita  sat  bolt  upright,  her  eyes  dilating 

incredulously.  "In  here?  With With  people 

coming  and  going,  your  letters,  your  private  papers, 
a  thousand  chances ?" 

"My  private  papers  are  not  here,"  he  said  crisply. 
"This  room  is  restricted  solely  to  the  business  of  the 
hospital.  I  do  not  leave  loose  ends ;  you  should  know 
that  by  this  time.  And  the  correspondence  will  be 
looked  after  by  Ward  as  always;  he  may  have  his 
faults  as  a  secretary,  but  I  challenge  any  one  to  swerve 


SWALLOWED  UP  109 

him  from  his  set  routine,  or  tamper  with  anything 
that  gets  into  his  hands. 

"As  to  Kelsey's  unbosoming  himself  to  visitors?" 
He  flipped  his  thumb  and  finger.  "He  knows,  one 
word  from  me  would  settle  that;  owing  to  a  press  of 
work,  I  am  employing  as  an  amanuensis  a  patient, 
clever,  harmless,  but — hopelessly  unbalanced." 

"But  Kelsey  wouldn't  take  the  job,"  she  cried  im 
patiently.  "He  wouldn't  help  you  out  that  much. 
He  hates  you  like  poison." 

"Of  course  he  hates  me,"  Bristow  returned  equably; 
"and  he'd  die  before  he'd  do  me  a  favor.  But  it's 
bound  to  strike  him  that  the  position  would  offer  op 
portunities.  He  might  happen  on  something  incrimi 
nating  that  would  serve  to  corroborate  his  story.  He'd 
think  of  the  chances  to  communicate  with  the  great 
outside.  My  dear  Anita,  you  are  a  remarkable  woman, 
but  you  are  astonishingly  weak  on  psychology,  no 
judge  of  human  nature." 

"Oh,  don't  begin  one  of  your  philosophical  lectures." 
She  spread  her  palms  out  flat.  "Do  as  you  please 
about  it.  You  will  anyway,  so  what's  the  use  object 
ing.  All  the  same,  I  think  you're  foolish  to  trust  that 
morose  hound  so  far,  even  if  he  is  yellow.  Lord!" 
She  curled  her  lip.  "If  I  was  a  big,  strapping  brute 
like  him,  I'd  soon  beat  my  way  out  of  here." 

"You'd  have  a  fine  time  doing  it."  He  showed  the 
even  line  of  his  strong  teeth.  "He's  wiser  than  you 
in  that  respect.  And  never  fear  about  Kelsey.  I 


no  SWALLOWED  UP 

know  his  kind.  Thin-skinned,  quick  on  the  trigger, 
if  they  don't  get  a  thing  on  the  first  dash,  they  lose 
heart  and  give  up." 

She  shrugged  indifferently,  as  if  having  said  her 
say  she  was  tired  of  the  theme. 

"How  does  the  alderman  feel  about  the  way  things 
are  going?"  she  asked  interestedly.  "I  saw  him  when 
he  got  in  this  afternoon,  but  it  was  only  for  a  moment, 
and  we  didn't  have  a  chance  to  talk.  He's  looking 
better  for  his  trip." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Bristow  granted;  "and  he's  pleased,  very 
well  pleased  indeed  with  the  way  everything's  been 
handled.  Why  shouldn't  he  be?  He  wants  to  see 
us  both  at  half-past  nine  for  a  conference,"  he  glanced 
at  his  watch;  "so  you'd  better  look  in  on  sister  now, 
and  then  go  on  up  to  his  rooms.  I  must  stop  to  give 
Morton  some  instructions  about  those  new  commit 
ment  forms  before  I  join  you." 

She  slowly  drew  herself  up  from  her  chair  and 
then  stood  waiting,  submissive  and  yet  hotly  imperious. 

"You've  forgotten  something." 

"Yes?  What?"  He  looked  as  if  he  had  not  an 
idea  what  she  meant,  but  over  his  face  was  a  glimmer 
of  what  at  that  moment  she  would  have  heartily  agreed 
with  Kelsey  was  his  maddening  smile.  "Ah,  I  see; 
a  kiss."  He  repaired  his  omission,  but  lightly. 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  pressed  her 
cheek  to  his. 


SWALLOWED  UP  in 

"Run  now."  He  gave  her  a  little  push.  "The 
alderman  hates  to  be  kept  waiting,  you  know." 

"Damn  you!"  she  said  through  her  shut  teeth,  the 
angry  fire  in  her  eyes  drying  her  starting  tears.  And 
then,  with  head  thrown  up,  she  walked  out  of  the  room. 

Bristow  left  by  another  door  to  hunt  up  his  assist 
ant  and  give  the  instructions  of  which  he  had  spoken. 
As  he  finished  and  turned  to  go,  he  paused. 

"If  I'm  needed  for  anything  important,  Doctor," 
he  said,  "you'll  find  me  up  in  Alderman  Higgins's 
apartments.  But  don't  disturb  me  unless  it  is  imper 
ative." 

Hardly  had  he  passed  out  and  gone  his  way  before 
the  door  opened  again,  and  Kelsey  strolled  in.  Mor 
ton's  sanctum,  a  small  cluttered  office  at  the  rear  of 
the  building,  was  not  an  especially  inviting  retreat, 
but  Kelsey  had  fallen  into  the  way  of  drifting  in  there 
almost  every  evening. 

There  was  no  other  companionship  for  either  of 
them ;  for  Morton  was  an  odd,  mousy,  little  man  who 
left  the  hospital  but  rarely  even  when  off  duty.  He 
was  a  night-hawk,  sitting  up  until  all  hours,  and 
Kelsey  often  wondered  when  he  slept.  With  a  taste 
for  long  discussions,  usually  on  some  scientific  subject, 
he  would  go  on  interminably,  sometimes  until  the 
dawn  showed  at  the  windows;  and  only  too  glad  to 
have  a  listener,  he  winked  at  the  infraction  of  the 
rule  which  required  a  patient  to  be  in  his  room  by 
nine  o'clock. 


ii2  SWALLOWED  UP 

Just  at  first  he  had  been  a  little  nervous  over  Kelsey's 
visits;  but  after  he  became  satisfied  that  the  other  was 
not  going  to  air  his  grievance  against  Bristow,  he 
rather  encouraged  them.  Bristow  must  know  all  about 
it  of  course;  nothing  escaped  his  attention.  And  since 
he  had  not  interfered,  it  was  evidently  all  right. 

He  had  accepted  the  Superintendent's  diagnosis  of 
Kelsey's  condition  implicitly;  but  since  Kelsey's  medi 
cal  personality  was  congenial,  he  was  willing  to  ignore 
any  other  phases  he  might  be  harboring.  Only  he 
hoped  the  actor  personality  would  not  soon  get  the 
upper  hand;  in  that  case,  he  was  sure  he  would  be 
sadly  bored. 

But  on  this  especial  evening,  Kelsey  was  seeking 
Morton's  company  for  something  more  than  mere 
sociability.  That  morning  the  girl  who  had  so  at 
tracted  his  interest  had  managed  to  hold  another  brief 
conversation  with  him,  and  in  it  had  asked  him  a 
question  on  which  she  seemed  to  lay  considerable  stress. 
Unable  to  answer  it  himself,  he  had  promised  to  secure 
the  information  she  wanted;  and  he  planned  to  glean 
it  from  Morton,  if  he  could  only  succeed  in  weaning 
the  little  man  from  his  abstract  theories  and  specu 
lations  long  enough  to  indulge  in  a  morsel  of  gossip. 

In  the  two  or  three  days  following  that  talk  of 
theirs  under  the  shadows  of  the  old  beech  tree,  Kelsey 
had  been  careful  not  to  approach  the  girl  again. 
Caution  was  necessary  for  one  thing;  and  for  an 
other,  he  had  the  feeling  that  when  she  was  able  to 


SWALLOWED  UP  113 

communicate  with  him,  she  would  find  some  way  of 
letting  him  know  it. 

Until  she  did  so,  he  would  remain  in  the  offing  so 
to  speak,  near  enough  to  be  summoned  even  by  the 
lifting  of  a  finger,  and  yet  sufficiently  aloof  not  to 
stir  up  an  increased  surveillance.  Whenever  she  was 
in  the  grounds,  he  always  by  one  shift  or  another 
secured  a  position  where,  if  she  chose  to  give  the 
signal,  she  would  have  no  difficulty  in  catching  his 
attention. 

But  she  only  sat  listless  and  mute  on  the  porch, 
sometimes  scribbling  on  a  pad,  sometimes  staring  be 
fore  her  with  dull,  apathetic  eyes;  or  else  she  walked 
aimlessly  about  the  lawns  as  one  wandering  without 
purpose  in  some  darkened  maze.  Miss  Copley  was 
always  with  her,  strolling  at  her  side,  or  seated  near 
at  hand  busy  with  a  piece  of  knitting. 

He  knew  the  girl  was  acting,  but  the  way  she  held 
her  pose,  never  relaxing  for  a  moment  into  the  normal:, 
roused  him  to  wonder  and  admiration  for  her  courage 
and  strength  of  will;  and  the  pathos  of  that  courage 
stirred  his  heart. 

He  was  no  longer  so  intent  on  his  own  escape. 
His  prison  held  an  attraction  for  him — the  attraction 
of  fathoming  the  mystery  that  surrounded  her,  and 
helping  her  avoid  the  menace,  whatever  it  might 
be,  that  hung  over  her.  But  what  was  that 
menace  ? 

Kelsey   liked   mathematics   and   was  a    fair   chess- 


n4  SWALLOWED  UP 

player,  but  never  before  had  he  grappled  with  so 
contradictory  and  baffling  a  problem. 

On  the  surface,  it  was  easy.  A  nurse  in  the  hos 
pital  had  brought  a  mentally  deranged  sister  to  be 
under  Dr.  Bristow's  care.  Simple,  quite ;  but  also  the 
most  complex  thing  he  had  ever  encountered.  For 
the  girl  was  not  deranged.  She  was  shamming  and 
doing  it  uncommonly  well.  That  could  only  mean  one 
thing,  that  she  considered  herself  in  a  difficult,  even 
dangerous  position,  surrounded  not  by  friends  but  by 
enemies. 

Why  had  she  been  placed  in  the  sanitarium?  It 
might  be — such  things  have  happened — for  fam 
ily  reasons;  a  question  of  money,  or  perhaps  some 
entanglement,  a  love  affair.  Kelsey  rebelled  rest 
lessly  at  that  suggestion.  He  preferred  the  other  hy 
pothesis.  If  there  was  an  inheritance  which  her  rel 
atives  did  not  wish  to  fall  into  her  hands,  what  more 
likely  than  that  they  should  take  steps  to  prove  her  in 
competent  ? 

But  if  this  were  so,  why  was  she  playing  their  game 
for  them? 

Kelsey  gave  it  up;  a  dozen  times  he  gave  it  up. 
There  was  no  rhyme  or  reason  in  it.  And  instantly 
his  mind  would  revert  to  it  again. 

Revolving  the  riddle  as  he  mused  on  the  porch  in 
the  sunshine,  his  glance  strayed  from  under  his  down- 
drawn  hat  brim  to  where  she  sat,  the  ever-present 
elder  sister  knitting  beside  her. 


SWALLOWED  UP  115 

How  alike  the  two  were,  and  yet  how  different. 
Anita,  beautiful  in  a  way,  but  to  him  repellant — a 
woman  pursuing  the  course  of  her  perverse,  un 
scrupulous  will.  Behind  that  ingratiating  mask  one 
sensed  depths  of  experience,  dark,  unsavory.  Those 
murky  eyes,  embers  smoldering  in  their  depths — that 
hard,  deflected  glance.  He  remembered  the  lovely 
topaz  lights  in  the  eyes  of  the  younger  sister.  Her 
gaze,  when  not  purposely  obscured,  was  clear  and 
direct. 

But  the  points  of  distinction  lay  deeper  still.  Verna 
breathed  a  different  air.  About  her  was  the  atmos 
phere  of  one  reared  in  ease  and  freedom  and  beauty. 
She  had  all  the  simplicity  of  good  breeding;  Anita's 
veneer  was  specious.  Manners,  speech,  the  into 
nations  of  their  voices  betrayed  the  gulf  between  them. 

While  he  pursued  the  puzzle  never  getting  any  nearer 
to  a  solution,  a  big,  luxurious  limousine  turned 
in  at  the  gates  and  drew  up  before  the  entrance.  A 
ponderous,  bent  old  man  emerged,  carefully  assisted 
by  his  valet.  Some  one  important  it  was  without  a 
doubt ;  for  Bristow  came  down  the  steps  to  meet  him 
and  shook  his  hand  heartily,  accosting  him  with  jovial 
camaraderie.  There  was  an  amount  of  luggage  which 
was  hastily  unloaded  and  carried  upstairs.  The  new 
arrival  gave  some  directions  to  his  valet  and  his  chauf 
feur,  and  then  preceded  Bristow  into  the  house,  as 
if  perfectly  familiar  with  the  place.  He  stopped  at 
the  head  of  the  steps,  though,  to  speak  to  Anita  Copley 


n6  SWALLOWED  UP 

who  had  hurried  forward  with  smiling,  almost  sy 
cophantic  deference,  and  Kelsey  got  a  fair  view  of 
him. 

Heavy  of  body  and  shuffling  of  gait,  he  leaned  on  his 
stick  and  seemed  to  feel  his  way  with  it,  as  if  his  sight 
were  impaired.  His  face  had  probably  once  been 
broad  and  ruddy,  but  now  the  flesh  dropped  from  it 
in  sallow,  dew-lapped  folds.  A  tower  tottering  to 
its  fall;  but  still  a  tower,  arrogant  in  decay. 

"So  Alderman  Higgins  has  come  back,"  Kelsey 
heard  the  comment  of  some  one  behind  him.  "Won 
derful  how  he  holds  on." 

Miss  Copley  had  followed  the  old  man  and  Bristow 
into  the  house;  and  with  her  presence  removed,  he 
looked  about  for  the  girl.  She  had  risen  from  her 
chair,  and  was  standing  at  the  far  end  of  the  porch. 
As  her  eyes  met  his,  they  ordered,  besought  him  to 
come  to  her. 

Avoiding  an  appearance  of  haste,  he  moved  down 
the  porch  and  paused  near  her,  leaning  on  the  railing 
while  he  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Who  is  the  old  man  that  just  came?"  she  asked. 
He  wondered  a  little  at  the  note  of  urgency  in  her 
voice  over  so  immaterial  a  matter. 

"Alderman  Higgins,  I  heard  some  one  say,"  he  told 
her.  "That  is  all  I  know." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  quickly  as  he  mentioned 
the  name.  It  seemed  to  confirm  a  conjecture  on  her 
part  and  carry  considerable  significance. 


SWALLOWED  UP  117 

"Find  out  all  you  can  about  him,"  she  bade  hurriedly, 
"and  let  me  know." 

"I  will,"  said  Kelsey.     "But  why?" 

"Don't  stop  to  talk  now.  We  haven't  time.  She 
will  be  right  back." 

With  her  usual  languid,  uncertain  step,  she  moved 
away  toward  her  chair;  and  Kelsey  returned  to  the 
other  end  of  the  porch,  perplexed  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  her  request,  yet  rejoicing  that  she  should 
have  called  upon  him  for  a  service. 

He  was  a  bit  uncertain  as  to  how  he  was  going  to 
carry  out  the  promise  he  had  made.  He  might  in 
quire  among  the  attendants,  but  it  was  doubtful  if 
he  would  receive  much  satisfaction,  and  his  catechiz 
ing  would  probably  be  reported  to  Bristow.  Over- 
curiosity  in  regard  to  the  affairs  of  the  institution 
was  not  encouraged. 

Morton,  then?  Yes;  Morton  was  the  one  by  all 
odds — an  accurate  and  voluminous  source  of  infor 
mation,  if  only  he  could  be  induced  to  talk. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  house  physician,  when  Kelsey  dropped 
into  his  office  that  evening,  happened  to  be 
in  a  voluble  mood.  A  medical  journal  lay 
upon  his  desk  in  which  he  had  just  been  reading  an 
article  that  controverted  one  of  his  pet  theories;  and 
he  seized  upon  the  opportunity  to  refute  the  fallacy, 
citing  authorities  and  giving  his  reasons  at  length, 
while  he  puffed  indignantly  at  his  old,  black  pipe. 

Kelsey  was  pleased  to  find  that  he  could  genuinely 
concur  in  the  little  man's  views ;  and  by  his  advice 
and  with  his  assistance  a  letter  was  composed  to  the 
publication,  which  they  were  convinced  left  the  of 
fending  author  not  a  leg  to  stand  on. 

So  delighted  was  Morton  with  the  vigor  of  the  re 
joinder  and  so  grateful,  that  he  expanded  into  un 
accustomed  warmth ;  and  Kelsey  took  quick  advantage 
of  the  propitious  moment  to  strike. 

"By  the  way,"  indifferently,  "who  was  the  old 
rooster  that  arrived  this  morning  in  such  state?" 

Morton  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Why,  you  know Or,  sure  enough ;  you  didn't 

come  here  until  after  he'd  left  for  Bermuda.  That, 
my  son,  is  Ex-Alderman  Willam  Higgins.  Mean 
to  say  you  never  heard  of  'Hobo  Bill'?  Well,"  as 
Kelsey  shook  his  head,  "a  half  dozen  years  ago  he 

zx8 


SWALLOWED  UP  119 

used  to  be  a  power  in  New  York ;  about  the  same  type, 
I  guess,  as  some  of  your  picturesquely  named  politi 
cians  out  in  Chicago.  He  started  out  in  life  as  a 
tramp,  they  say ;  but  somehow  he  managed  to  edge  into 
politics,  and  cleaned  up  big;  worth  anywhere  from 
seven  to  ten  millions,  I  guess.  He  stays  here  when 
he's  not  off  on  one  of  his  periodical  trips.  Funny  old 
codger." 

"I  should  say  so,"  Kelsey  agreed.  "It's  the  first 
time  I  ever  heard  of  a  man  voluntarily  making  an 
insane  asylum  his  headquarters." 

"Oh,  he's  no  bug.  Half  blind,  pretty  well  broken 
down  physically,  but  mentally  keen  enough ;  shrewd, 
devilish  shrewd,  let  me  tell  you.  And  as  to  his  being 
here,  why,  he  had  some  nervous  affection,  you  see, 
used  to  go  on  fierce  sprees  and  all  that,  and  Bristow 
got  him  into  shape.  They're  like  brothers." 

"So?"  Kelsey  was  mildly  interested.  "I  saw  the 
two  of  them  out  together  this  afternoon  in  Bristow's 
new  Rolls-Royce." 

Morton  filled  his  pipe  and  looked  over  it  at  Kelsey 
with  a  humorous,  contemplative  smile  and  a  wag  of 
his  head. 

"Yes;  some  car.  I've  seen  the  days  when  Bris 
tow  had  to  hoof  it  all  the  way  to  the  station,  if  he 
wanted  to  get  into  town." 

"Times  have  changed,  eh?"  Kelsey  was  stretched 
out  in  his  chair.  "Not  always  so  prosperous?" 

"Not    always."     Morton's    reminiscent    smile    still 


120  SWALLOWED  UP 

lingered.  "When  I  first  came  here,  seven  years  ago, 
things  were  so  far  from  prosperous,  that  we  never 
knew  from  one  week  to  another  whether  we  could 
keep  going  or  not.  Bristow  did  wonders  even  then, 
but  I  was  in  a  cold  shiver  all  the  time.  I  guess  I'm 
naturally  timid,  and  I  know  I'm  like  a  cat;  once  set 
tled,  I  hate  to  change  my  quarters.  Then,  all  of  a 
sudden,  we  were  on  easy  street.  Bristow  began  put 
ting  all  sorts  of  improvements  on  the  place,  buying 
more  land,  throwing  out  new  wings,  installing  modern 
appliances,  re-furnishing,  re-decorating,  splurging  on 
cars,  turning  himself  out  like  the  lilies  of  the  field,  and 
making  the  old  dump  one  of  the  highest-priced  ref 
uges  for  fashionable  nuts  in  the  whole  East." 

"Found  the  buried  treasure  under  the  old  mill, 
what?"  Kelsey  yawned  slightly. 

Morton  chuckled.  "Where  the  money  came  from, 
I  never  knew.  Bristow's  close-mouthed  and  it  would 
take  a  bolder  man  than  I  am  to  question  him  about 
his  affairs.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  he  made  a  lucky 
turn  on  the  market.  He's  interested  in  Wall  Street, 
I  know;  I  sometimes  take  telephone  messages  from 
his  broker. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "all  this  happened  after 
'Hobo  Bill'  came  into  our  lives,  and  I've  always  be 
lieved  that  he  gave  the  tip  that  was  responsible  for 
our  rise  to  greatness.  Still  Bristow's  clever.  He 
would  have  got  there  anyhow.  He  was  bound  to  go 
ahead.  He's  got  brains  and  a  determination  that 


SWALLOWED  UP  121 

The  bell  of  the  telephone  jingled,  and  Morton  in 
terrupted  himself  to  answer  the  call. 

"Yes,  Doctor,"  he  said;  then  reluctantly,  as  he 
turned  round  eyes  toward  Kelsey:  "Ye-es —  Yes, 
he's  here,  Doctor."  After  a  moment,  he  hung  up  the 
receiver. 

"It's  Bristow,"  he  said ;  "he  wants  to  see  you  in 
his  office  right  away."  He  couldn't  keep  the  trepi 
dation  out  of  his  voice. 

"To  see  me  ?  Now  ?"  Kelsey  looked  up  at  the  clock. 
"Why,  it's  after  eleven.  What  on  earth  does  he  want 
with  me  at  this  hour?" 

"He  didn't  say,  but  I  suppose  it's  for  your  being 
out  of  your  room.  I'm  afraid,"  ruefully,  "we're 
both  of  us  in  for  it." 

With  a  burst  of  invective  at  what  he  termed,  "pure, 
damned  malevolence,"  Kelsey  flung  himself  out  of 
Morton's  room  and  down  the  hall  to  meet  his  antici 
pated  wigging.  But  when  he  pushed  open  the  Super 
intendent's  door,  he  found  no  stern  martinet  bent  on 
enforcing  discipline. 

Sleek  and  shining,  Bristow  lounged  on  the  hearth 
rug,  looking  down  into  the  clear  flame  of  a  birch- 
wood  fire.  The  early  summer  nights  were  chilly  down 
there  on  the  Long  Island  shore,  and  he  liked  the  warmth 
and  glow. 

The  conference  upstairs  from  which  he  had  just 
come  had  left  him  in  the  best  of  humors,  and  he  felt 
in  the  mood  to  play  a  cat  and  mouse  game  with 


122  SWALLOWED  UP 

Kelsey  whom  he  regarded  as  lamentably  lacking  in 
finesse. 

"Ah,  Kelsey?"  he  said  pleasantly,  taking  a  chair 
himself  and  waving  hospitably  toward  another  one. 
"Sit  down  and  have  a  cigarette."  He  pushed  across 
the  table  a  humidor  containing  various  brands  in  the 
different  compartments. 

Kelsey  stiffly  declined  both  the  chair  and  the  cigar 
ette.  This  unwonted  cordiality  made  him  wary. 
But  Bristow's  smiling  geniality  was  proof  against  the 
rebuff. 

"Rather  late,"  he  said;  "but  I  was  anxious  for  a 
little  talk  with  you — about  yourself."  He  was  grave 
now,  but  kindly.  "Although  I  may  have  seemed  to 
neglect  you,  you  have  really  been  very  much  in  my 
mind.  To  speak  frankly,  your  present  manner  of  life 
is  not  good  for  you;  it  leaves  you  too  much  time  to 
brood.  You  are  naturally  active  and  vigorous,  and 
you  are  simply  running  to  seed.  Occupation  is  the 
best  medicine  in  the  world  for  you.  I  realized  this, 
but  the  form  that  occupation  should  take  has  so  far 
stumped  me.  However,"  he  put  his  finger-tips  to 
gether  and  tapped  them  gently,  "something  came  up 
to-day  which  I  think  offers  the  solution." 

Kelsey 's  hard,  blue  eyes  never  left  the  alienist's 
face.  He  was  following  every  word,  and  at  the  same 
time  trying  to  think  ahead  and  fathom  the  purpose  of 
these  remarks. 

Bristow  lifted  the  letter  containing  the  magazine 


SWALLOWED  UP  123 

offer  from  the  table,  and  getting  up  handed  it  to  the 
younger  man. 

Kelsey  rapidly  glanced  over  it,  but  before  he  could 
speak,  Bristow  took  up  his  thread  again. 

"I  have  neither  the  time,  nor,"  with  a  mellow  laugh, 
"the  inclination  to  undertake  it.  Too  much  research; 
too  much  work  altogether.  But  it  struck  me  that  it 
would  be  just  the  thing  for  you.  I  would  have  to 
sign  the  articles  of  course,  but  that  is  a  detail.  You 
must  be  rather  fed  up  on  idleness  by  this  time,  and 
as  I  shall  be  generous  in  the  matter  of  terms,  I  think 
we  should  come  to  an  agreement." 

Kelsey  laughed  outright.  That  air  of  blandly  con 
ferring  a  favor  when  he  was  actually  asking  one,  was 
so  essentially  Bristowish. 

The  man's  vanity!  He  wanted  to  see  himself  in 
print,  to  have  his  name  attached  to  some  brilliant  and 
erudite  articles.  He  knew  he  couldn't  do  the  work 
himself,  and  so  he  proposed  to  utilize  his  victim's  gifts 
to  his  own  greater  glory.  Kelsey  saw  himself  pulling 
Bristow's  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire!  Not  for  a  king 
dom. 

"Do  I  understand,"  he  asked  with  exaggerated  hu 
mility,  his  mouth  still  twitching,  "that  you  wish  to  en 
trust,  not  that  hypothetical  quantity,  your  honor,  but 
your  name,  your  scientific  reputation  to  my  unworthy 
hands?" 

The  shaft  glanced  off,  without  leaving  a  scratch. 

"Don't  belittle  yourself,  my  boy,"  benignly.     "You 


i24  SWALLOWED  UP 

are,  I  know,  an  excellent  and  well-informed  writer. 
You  have  been  around  a  good  bit,  and  you  know  what 
they  are  doing  at  other  places  as  well  as  what  we  are 
aiming  for  here.  You  have  the  new  authorities  and 
theories  at  your  ringer  ends.  It's  all  fresh  in  your 
mind,  considerably  more  so  than  in  mine." 

"I'm  sorry,"  Kelsey's  tone  was  elaborately  satirical, 
"but  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  oblige  you.  My 
engagements  at  present  are  so  numerous,  that  I  have 
no  time  for  philanthropy." 

"Think  twice  before  you  refuse,"  Bristow  urged 
persuasively. 

He  went  on,  clothing  the  same  arguments  in  fresh 
phrases ;  but  all  the  time  he  was  covertly  scanning  Kel 
sey's  face,  watching  for  that  quick  gleam  of  the  eye 
which  would  show  that  the  other  had  awakened  to  the 
latent  possibilities  within  his  proposal. 

It  came  at  last.  Kelsey  had  been  so  intent  on  dis 
covering  some  underlying  motive  in  the  request,  that 
he  had  not  seen  the  advantage  to  himself.  It  was  a 
great  light,  but  still  he  could  not  divest  himself  of 
doubt. 

"What's  your  game,  Doctor?"  he  asked  bluntly. 
"  'Will  you  walk  into  my  parlor,  said  the  spider  to  the 
fly,'  of  course.  But  why?" 

Bristow  lifted  his  hands.  "Kelsey!  Kelsey!" 
humorous,  but  a  little  grieved.  "I  offer  you  a  chair, 
and  you  suspect  a  trap-door;  a  cigarette,  and  you  im 
agine  poison.  Don't  you  see,  that  by  encouraging 


SWALLOWED  UP  125 

these  suspicions  of  me,  you  only  retard  your  own 
'cure?  Come;  be  a  good  sport,  and  help  me  as  well 
as  yourself." 

Kelsey's  hands  grasped  the  back  of  the  chair  before 
him  until  the  wood  cracked;  his  eyes  blazed. 

"I  wouldn't  pull  you  out  of  the  water  if  I  saw  you 
drowning,  or  rescue  you  from  a  burning  house.  But  it's 
foolish  for  a  man  to  cut  off  his  nose  to  spite  his  face ; 
and,  as  you  say,  I'm  pretty  well  fed  up  on  loafing. 
Perhaps,  on  the  understanding  that  I  take  over  this 
work  solely  for  my  own  diversion  and  advantage,  and 
not  in  any  sense  to  aid  you,  I  might ?" 

"Put  it  on  any  grounds  you  please,"  Bristow  inter 
rupted  with  a  significant  movement  of  the  head. 
"Shall  I  expect  you  here  to-morrow  morning?"  { 

"Yes,"  curtly.  "I'll  draw  up  a  sort  of  schedule 
to-night  of  the  subjects  to  be  covered,  and  have  it 
ready  to  submit  to  you." 

But,  although  he  went  at  once  to  his  room  and  tried 
to  settle  himself  to  the  work  before  him,  he  could  not 
give  it  his  undivided  attention. 

As  Bristow  had  foreseen,  the  opportunities  of  this 
new  position,  one  after  another,  unfolded  before  him — 
chances  of  whispering  a  word  to  a  friendly  visitor, 
chances  of  smuggling  a  message  into  the  outgoing 
mails,  chances  of  discovering  evidence  that  would  nail 
Bristow  as  the  criminal  he  knew  him  to  be. 

The  ethics  of  the  matter  didn't  bother  him.  It 
was  pull-devil-pull-baker  between  Bristow  and  him- 


i26  SWALLOWED  UP 

self,  and  Bristow  was  too  shrewd  not  to  realize  the 
risk  he  ran  in  employing  an  open  enemy.  The  only 
thing  that  did  bother  him  was,  that  this  new  employ 
ment  would  curtail  his  opportunities  for  seeing  the 
girl. 

He  must  try  and  get  a  word  with  her  to-morrow, 
and  let  her  know  of  this  latest  shift  in  his  affairs,  as 
well  as  to  inform  her  what  he  had  learned  of  "Hobo 
Bill." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DAYS  very  seldom  go  exactly  as  planned. 
Bristow  hovered  about  all  morning,  helping 
lay  out  the  work,  consulting  books,  offering 
suggestions,  keeping  Kelsey  so  busy,  that  he  did  not 
have  a  moment  to  slip  away  from  his  desk  and  look 
for  the  girl,  and  the  afternoon  was  not  much  better. 
It  was  almost  five  o'clock  before  he  felt  free  to  leave 
the  office  and  seek  her. 

A  rapid  survey  of  the  porches  and  lounging  rooms 
showed  him  that  she  was  not  in  the  house,  and  he 
went  on  to  the  grounds,  ostensibly  for  a  breath  of  air 
after  his  day's  work. 

Most  of  the  patients,  he  saw,  with  their  attendant 
nurses,  were  clustered  over  at  the  side  of  the  lawn,  in 
terestedly  watching  the  destruction  of  a  wide  section 
of  the  wall  beyond  the  encircling  hedge.  Already  a 
considerable  gap  showed,  and  the  workmen  were  busy 
still  further  tearing  down  the  masonry.  He  made  an 
inquiry  or  two,  and  learned  that  the  seepage  caused  by 
an  old  spring  carelesly  filled  in  had  undermined  the 
foundation  at  this  point  and  made  it  necessary  to 
rebuild. 

He  stood  looking  on  with  the  others,  but  his  eyes 
were  less  engaged  with  the  wall  than  in  sifting  the 

127 


128  SWALLOWED  UP 

group  of  spectators  for  a  sight  of  the  girl ;  and  he  had 
about  made  up  his  mind  that  she  was  not  present,  when 
he  finally  saw  her  sitting  on  a  stone  bench  a  little  re 
moved  from  the  rest. 

She  was  alone,  the  light  of  the  sinking  sun  behind 
her.  A  pad  of  paper  was  on  her  knee,  but  for  once 
she  was  not  writing.  Instead,  her  dreamy  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  gap  in  the  wall,  and  the  vista  of  freedom 
beyond. 

Kelsey  looked  about  for  the  omnipresent  nurse,  but 
she  was  nowhere  in  sight;  so  he  walked  boldly  over 
and  seated  himself  on  the  bench. 

He  felt  the  girl  start  and  turn,  but  he  did  not  glance 
at  her.  With  his  elbow  on  his  crossed  knee,  chin  in 
hand,  he  sat  watching  the  demolition  of  the  wall. 

"Where  is  Miss  Copley?"  he  asked  under  his 
breath. 

She  edged  a  little  nearer  him,  and  began  to  write  on 
her  pad. 

"Ill,"  she  answered.  "She's  got  a  sick  headache. 
Another  of  the  nurses  is  supposed  to  be  looking  after 
me,  but  she's  busy  now. 

"Oh,"  she  went  on  in  a  fervent  whisper,  "I've  prayed 
that  you  would  come  to-day.  I've  dared  so  much  on 
the  strength  of  it.  It  was  so  necessary  that  I  should 
see  you." 

"And  also,  that  I  should  see  you,"  he  broke  in.  "I 
have  news.  Bristow  has  engaged  me  to  help  him  in 
the  preparation  of  some  magazine  articles.  I  will  be  in 


SWALLOWED  UP  129 

his  office,  in  a  position  to  know  everything  that  goes 
on.  Perhaps ?" 

"Wait!"  she  interrupted.  "Before  any  one  comes, 
I  have  something  I  want  to  give  you." 

She  cast  a  searching  glance  about ;  and  then  slipped 
a  folded  paper  from  between  the  sheets  of  her  pad, 
letting  it  fall  on  the  seat  between  them,  screened  by 
her  frock. 

He  dropped  his  hand  over  it,  and  with  deft  sleight- 
of-hand  transferred  it  to  his  pocket,  bringing  up  in  its 
stead  a  cigarette. 

"It's  safe,"  he  assured  her. 

"And  now  tell  me  about  your  work  with  Bristow," 
she  said. 

He  did  so  briefly,  explaining  the  features  connected 
with  it  that  might  inure  to  their  benefit. 

"Also,"  he  went  on,  "I  have  found  out  about  Hig- 
gins  as  you  asked  me  to." 

"Oh,  yes?"  But  the  interest  she  had  shown  the  day 
before  in  the  decrepit  old  man  seemed  to  have  waned. 

"He's  hand  in  glove  with  Bristow,"  said  Kelsey,  con 
cluding  his  sketchy  report.  "And  I  have  no  doubt  is 
just  as  big  a  crook." 

"And  Copley,  too,"  added  the  girl  with  conviction. 
"They're  all  three  crooks  together." 

Kelsey  himself  had  much  the  same  idea,  but  he 
hadn't  wanted  to  say  it.  Strange,  that  she  should 
speak  so  of  her  sister. 

But  already  her  thoughts  seemed  to  have  turned  in 


1 30  SWALLOWED  UP 

another  direction.  She  was  gazing  again  at  the  gap 
in  the  wall. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  Dr.  Bristow's  engage 
ments?"  she  asked  unexpectedly. 

He  shook  his  head.  "Only,  that  I  heard  him  tell 
his  secretary,  he  would  be  attending  a  dinner  of  the 
Medical  Society  in  town  to-morrow  night." 

"To-morrow  night!"  For  some  reason,  this  seemed 
to  her  extremely  important. 

"And  Copley's  sick  headache  will  last  two  or  three 
days;  they  always  do."  She  spoke  musingly  as  if  the 
two  facts  to  her  held  some  connection.  Although  he 
did  not  look  at  her,  he  was  conscious  that  her  whole 
frame  was  tense.  She  seemed  miles  away  from  him. 

Fearing  that  he  had  already  staid  too  long  with  her, 
and  knowing  of  nothing  else  to  be  said,  Kelsey  rose  to 
go ;  but  she  detained  him  with  a  quick  gesture. 

"Wait!"  He  could  see  that  her  fingers  were  trem 
bling  as  she  guided  her  pencil ;  there  was  an  excited  tre 
mor  in  her  voice.  "I  must  see  you  to-morrow.  Don't 
let  anything  prevent.  I  have  an  idea.  We  may  be 
able  to  get  away." 

He  nodded.  A  nurse  was  moving  toward  them, 
and  he  dared  not  linger. 

"I  will  lay  off  about  noon,  and  find  you." 

For  one  moment  he  forgot  the  restrictions  upon 
them,  and  looked  at  her.  And  she  forgot,  too,  and 
looked  back  at  him.  Then  they  remembered,  and  he 


SWALLOWED  UP  131 

moved  off  hastily  toward  the  wall,  as  if  to  take  a  closer 
view  of  the  work. 

But  he  did  not  even  see  the  shorers  at  their  toil ;  they 
were  mere  blurred  shadows  against  the  sunset's  gold. 
Her  face  lived  before  him;  her  voice  still  fell  thrillingly 
upon  his  ear.  That  was  reality. 

He  was  eager  of  course  to  see  what  the  message  she 
had  given  him  contained,  but  he  deliberately  held  him 
self  in  check.  He  ate  his  dinner,  talked  an  hour  or  so 
with  Morton,  and  it  was  not  until  he  was  safe  in  his 
room  and  had  taken  every  precaution  against  surprise, 
that  he  ventured  to  look  at  it. 

"I  was  brought  here,"  it  began  without  preamble,  "I 
don't  know  how.  The  next  day — it  must  have  been  the 
next  day — Dr.  Bristow  told  me  that  I  had  been  very  ill 
and  was  in  a  hospital,  but  that  I  would  see  my  father  and 
mother  soon.  I  believed  what  he  said  for  a  little  while. 
But  when  the  effects  of  the  drug  wore  off — I  must  have 
been  given  a  drug — I  felt  well  and  strong.  My  parents 
did  not  come,  there  were  excuses.  I  insisted  on  going 
home.  Dr.  Bristow  and  the  Copley  woman  wouldn't  let 
me.  When  I  tried  to  go,  they  prevented  me  by  force. 
I  screamed  and  struggled.  Then  the  Doctor  put  a  drug 
into  my  arm.  These  scenes  happened  several  times,  and 
always  ended  in  the  same  way.  They  never  let  me  get 
out  of  that  one  room.  Then  one  day  when  Copley  thought 
I  was  asleep,  I  heard  her  talking  outside  my  door  to 
another  nurse. 

"This  woman  said :  'Is  your  sister  getting  any  better?' 
and  Copley  answered  in  a  weep-y  voice :  'No ;  she'll 
never  be  any  better,  I'm  afraid.'  They  talked  a  while, 
and  then  the  other  nurse  said:  Tf  you  were  a  little 


1 32  SWALLOWED  UP 

younger,  dearie,  and  hadn't  been  here  for  years,  I'd  try 
and  get  the  hundred  thousand  dollars  reward  for  that 
missing  Hope  Ranger.  You're  almost  a  dead  ringer  for 
her.' 

"Then  it  all  flashed  over  me,  what  they  were  doing; 
why  I,  Hope  Ranger,  was  in  this  place " 

The  sheets  of  the  letter  shook  in  Kelsey's  hands.  He 
looked  blankly  down  at  the  page  before  him,  over 
whelmed  by  a  feeling  of  loss  and  desolation  as  if  the 
lights  had  been  turned  out  suddenly  and  something 
beautiful  had  vanished  from  his  life. 

So  the  problem  was  simple  after  all — obvious,  as  it 
appeared.  A  pity.  What  a  pity!  That  wonderful 
girl.  And  this  was  her  delusion,  her  fixed  idea.  She 
imagined  herself  to  be  Hope  Ranger,  the  girl  whose 
name  was  on  everybody's  lips.  Perfectly  sane  in 
every  other  respect,  mentally  above  the  average — all 
this  gallant  effort  of  hers  for  nothing. 

He  lifted  the  paper  again,  and  read  on: — 

"After  I  heard  those  women  talking,  and  understood 
what  it  meant,  I  nearly  went  mad,  trying  to  think  what  to 
do.  I  had  already  tried  to  bribe  Copley,  but  she  is  in 
love  with  Bristow  and  absolutely  ruled  by  him.  So  I 
just  sat  thinking;  plans,  plans  seething  through  my 
brain " 

"I  know  all  about  that,"  muttered  Kelsey,  as  he 
paused  to  turn  the  page.  Then  he  quickly  resumed : — 

"I  was  so  furious,  so  despairing,  so  bent  on  finding 
some  way  out,  that  I  wouldn't  even  look  at  those  two,  the 
only  persons  I  saw.  I  wouldn't  speak  to  them,  or  notice 
them  in  any  way.  They  couldn't  understand  the  reason 


SWALLOWED  UP  133 

for  the  change  in  me,  and  were  surprised.  I  saw  them 
exchanging  glances.  And  then  it  came  to  me,  I  don't 
know  how,  that  if  I  pretended  to  be  silly  and  not  remem 
ber  anything,  they  might  let  me  out  of  that  room  and  go 
about  as  I  saw  the  others  doing  from  my  window. 

"I  worked  up  another  scene  with  Copley,  when  I 
knew  the  Doctor  was  away.  I  fought  to  get  out  the  door, 
and  when  she  gave  me  the  drug  to  quiet  me,  I  accused 
her  of  having  given  me  an  over-dose  in  her  excitement. 
She  denied  it,  but  was  bothered.  Then  I  pretended  to 
lie  in  a  stupor  for  almost  an  entire  day.  When  I  came 
to,  I  acted  as  if  I  were  stupid,  as  if  I  were  some  one  else. 
I  said  I  was  a  writer  and  asked  for  pencils  and  paper,  and 
wrote  pages  of  nonsense. 

"I  heard  Bristow  talking  to  Copley.  'Shamming,'  he 
said  at  first,  but  she  was  convinced  by  this  time  that  she 
had  given  me  an  over-dose,  and  finally  got  him  to  think 
ing  so  too.  I  heard  him  explaining  to  her  about  'shock' 
and  something  about,  'a  congenitally  weak  brain.'  She 
was  upset  about  it  all,  but  he  told  her,  'Better  so,  if  it's 
true.' 

"He  put  me  through  all  kinds  of  tests — surprises, 
everything.  It  was  dreadful,  but  my  nerves  are  strong, 
and  I  was  fighting  for  my  life.  He  talked  to  me  about 
my  parents,  my  home.  I  was  indifferent.  Then  he  got 
to  trying  to  make  me  remember  things  that  aren't  true. 
He  told  me  my  name  was  Verna  Copley,  and  I  repeated  it 
after  them  like  a  parrot.  I  have  only  forgotten  my  pose 
with  them  once.  That  was  when  Copley  tried  a  hat  on 
me  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  myself  and  burst  out  laugh 
ing.  But  it  was  so  grotesque  that  even  an  imbecile  would 
have  laughed. 

"I  have  been  afraid  to  make  myself  known  to  any  one. 
To  say  that  I  am  Hope  Ranger  would  only  convince  most 
people  that  I  am  the  lunatic  I  appear.  But  I  am  Hope 
Ranger,  I  am.  And  I  know  that  you  will  believe  me,  just 
as  I  believed  you." 


i34  SWALLOWED  UP 

When  he  had  finished  the  last  words,  Kelsey  me 
chanically,  thoroughly  tore  the  letter  into  tiny  frag 
ments,  threw  them  into  an  ash-receiver  and  set  a  match 
to  them,  watching  them  until  nothing  remained  but 
ashes.  Then  he  dropped  into  a  chair. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  there  were  tiny  hammers  in 
his  brain,  reiterating  with  every  beat,  "Hope  Ranger ! 
Hope  Ranger!" 

His  memory  reverted  to  that  scrap  of  newspaper  he 
had  found  on  the  lawn.  Did  he  still  have  it?  He 
rose  and  searched  through  all  his  pockets,  but  without 
success.  It  must  have  been  destroyed.  Neither,  was 
he  able  to  recall  very  distinctly  the  pictures  it  had  con 
tained  of  the  missing  girl.  He  had  certainly  not  been 
struck  at  the  time  by  any  marked  likeness  between 
those  pictures  and  the  girl  who  came  and  sat  with  him 
under  the  beech  tree. 

But  then  one  couldn't  go  much  on  mere  newspaper 
illustrations ;  and  anyhow  he  had  not  been  especially 
interested.  What  he  had  wanted  was  news,  and  he 
had  been  disgruntled  to  find  the  thing  only  a  sheet 
from  a  Sunday  supplement. 

He  dropped  that  phase  of  the  evidence,  and  turned 
instead  to  his  own  observation  of  her  as  a  trained  alien 
ist;  and  as  he  did  so,  the  excited  chaos  of  his  brain 
was  succeeded  by  a  surprising,  flooding  relief. 

She  was  sane.  He  knew  it.  He  could  not  be  de 
ceived.  The  idea  that  a  person  of  her  self-control, 
her  clear  percepton,  was  harboring  a  delusion  was 


SWALLOWED  UP  135 

nonsense.  And  if  she  said  she  was  Hope  Ranger,  it 
was  so.  He  believed  her.  He  -required  no  proof  be 
yond  her  simple  word. 

Doctor-like,  though,  he  kept  mentally  buttressing 
his  decision  with  arguments  from  the  books,  and  it 
struck  him  that  he  had  read  only  a  day  or  two  before 
a  passage  which  seemed  to  have  a  direct  application. 
He  reached  over  to  his  book-shelf  to  take  down  the 
volume  he  wanted,  and  as  he  did  so,  a  folded,  yellow 
piece  of  newspaper  dropped  out — that  fragment  of 
Sunday  supplement.  He  had  thrust  it  in  there  as  a 
book-mark. 

Spreading  it  out  on  the  table,  he  studied  its  array 
of  portraits.  There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt. 
The  hair  was  arranged  differently,  but  the  features, 
the  contour,  the  expressions  were  the  same  as  Verna 
Copley's.  He  had  all  the  confirmation  he  needed. 
Still  he  was  glad  that,  "not  seeing,  he  had  yet  believed." 

His  eye  ran  down  to  the  text  of  the  newspaper  story- 
below  the  pictures,  and  as  he  read  it  over  again,  his, 
face  took  on  a  perplexed  scowl. 

Why,  when  such  widespread  efforts  were  being 
made  to  recover  the  lost  girl,  was  she  held  here  a, 
prisoner  ? 

Kelsey  believed,  as  he  had  said,  that  Bristow  was 
capable  of  anything.  The  man  was  a  crook.  That 
many-sided  brain  of  his  was  a  criminal  brain.  If  he 
would  deal  in  stolen  jewels,. he  would  engage  in. or.  cpnr- 
niv.e  a,t  adduction,. 


136  SWALLOWED  UP 

But  what  was  -his  motive?  How  did  he  expect  to 
get  away  with  it  ?  What  could  he  gain  ? 

Suddenly  the  conversation  between  Miss  Copley 
and  the  other  nurse,  which  the  girl  had  reported  in 
her  letter,  recurred  to  him:  "If  you  were  a  little 
younger,  dearie,  and  hadn't  been  here  for  years,  I'd  try 
and  get  the  hundred  thousand  dollars  reward  offered 
for  that  missing  Hope  Ranger.  You're  almost  a 
dead  ringer  for  her." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  brought  his  hands  sound 
lessly  together.  It  was  a  carefully  conceived  plot, 
based  upon  the  remarkable  resemblance  between  the 
two  women.  By  bringing  Hope  Ranger  there  as  the 
demented  sister  of  Miss  Copley  and  adopting  a  few 
other  simple  subterfuges,  she  could  be  held  in  perfect 
safety.  No  one  would  ever  dream  of  suspecting  her 
true  identity,  or  crediting  it,  if  told. 

And  the  object  of  course  was  to  extort  money  from 
the  girl's  wealthy  father.  But  what  then?  The  time 
must  come  when  Ranger  would  either  refuse  or  be 
unable  to  comply  with  further  demands.  In  that 
case — what?  Bristow  and  his  associates  could  not 
release  their  prisoner.  She  knew  too  much.  They 
would  not  care  to  keep  her,  a  constant  source  of  danger 
on  their  hands. 

Good  God!  He  clenched  his  fists.  She  was  in 
peril — actual,  deadly,  imminent  peril.  And  he  was 
powerless  to  aid  or  protect  her. 


THROUGHOUT  the  night  Kelsey  sat  in  his 
chair.  The  thought  of  going  to  bed  did  not 
even  occur  to  him.  It  was  the  dark  of  the 
moon  and  he  had  no  light  in  his  room ;  but  the  shadows 
about  him  were  nothing  beside  the  heavy,  dense  black 
ness  that  invaded  his  spirit  and  seeped  through  his 
brain. 

On  only  one  paint  could  he  think  clearly,  or  come  to 
a  decision — he  must  see  the  girl  without  delay,  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  He  must  warn  her  to  be  on 
her  guard,  to  question  every  move  or  suggestion  of 
those  about  her. 

Perhaps,  too,  by  consulting  together,  he  and  she 
might  evolve  some  plan  for  her  escape.  That  was 
now  far  more  imperative  than  his  own.  But  he  did 
not  have  much  hope.  He  had  thought  and  thought  all 
night,  but  without  striking  anything  that  offered  any 
promise  of  success.  He  remembered  that  she  had 
hinted  of  some  idea  of  her  own;  but  he  took  small 
stock  in  that.  It  was  doubtless  only  one  of  the  many 
expedients  he  had  already  considered  and  discarded. 
At  any  rate,  he  must  see  her. 

As  the  day  broke,  he  eagerly  scanned  the  morning 
sky,  and  thanked  fortune  that  it  was  fair.  If  the 
weather  were  rainy  or  threatening,  she  would  not  be  al- 

i37 


133  SWALLOWED  UP 

lowed  on  the  grounds.  The  sun,  though,  was  rising 
on  a  model  June  day,  rare  enough  for  any  poet's 
praise. 

He  knew  that  there  was  no  chance  of  her  appearing 
before  ten  o'clock;  and  so  after  breakfast  he  went  to 
the  office  and  pretended  to  be  deep  in  his  research  work, 
although  his  eyes  were  constantly  seeking  the  clock. 

On  the  stroke  of  ten,  he  hurried  out,  but  only  to  find 
her  closely  attended  by  the  nurse  who  had  been  with 
her  the  day  before.  The  same  thing  was  true  at 
eleven,  and  again  at  twelve. 

At  half-past  twelve  the  patients  permitted  the  liberty 
of  the  grounds  were  recalled  to  the  house  for  luncheon, 
and  Kelsey  knew  that  under  the  exact  routine  of  the 
place  none  of  them  would  be  allowed  out  again  until 
two. 

He  was  in  the  depths  by  this  time.  If  that  nurse 
stuck  to  her  like  a  chestnut  burr  all  afternoon,  there 
would  be  no  opportunity  for  him.  Somehow  he  must 
force  one. 

But  when  he  made  his  next  reconnoissance,  his 
heart  leaped.  Hope,  as  he  called  her  now  to  himself, 
was  sitting  alone  on  the  stone  bench  where  he  had 
talked  to  her  the  day,  before.  She  was  writing  on  her 
pad  as  usual,  and/the  nurse  had  turned  her  attention  to  a. 
more  difficult  patient. 

Kelsey  sat  down  a  foot  or  two  away  from  her,  and 
pretended  to  watch  the  men  pulling  down  the  wall.  It 
rjlain.  fcnom  the  progress,  of  the.  work  that  the; 


SWALLOWED  UP  139 

faulty  section  would  be  completely  down  by  night,  and 
the  workmen  ready  to  lay  a  new  foundation  the  next 
day. 

The  girl  went  on  scribbling,  her  face  turned  a  little 
away  from  Kelsey;  but  as  he  seated  himself  she  began 
talking  low  and  fast. 

"I  saw  you  looking  for  me  this  morning,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  get  rid  of  that  woman.  I  was  in  despair. 
It  is  so  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  talk  to 
gether  to-day." 

"It  is,  indeed,"  he  said  earnestly;  "more  so  than  you 
think.  I  want  to  tell  you " 

"Let  me  talk  first,"  she  interrupted.  "I've  got  to 
make  clear  to  you  my  plan  for  getting  away,  while  I 
the  chance.  Dr.  Bristow  is  going  to  town  this 

ig?" 

,  asked  the  question  so  anxiously,  that  it  distressed 

Poor  child!     Did  she  think  that  the  mere  fact 

'Bristow's  being  away  from  the  sanitarium  for  an 
Fening  was  going  to  help  the  situation? 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  answered.  "I  heard  him  on  the  tele 
phone  this  morning  telling  the  chairman  that  he  would 
be*  at  the  meeting  without  fail." 

"Then  we  can  manage  it!"  There  was  a  thrill  in 
her  voice.  "Listen." 

And  while  she  scribbled,  she  unfolded  to  him  a  plan 
so  simple  and  yet  so  supremely  audacious  that  it  took 
his  breath.  Before  she  had  half-finished,  he  had 
caught  her  idea  and  was  on  fire  with  it. 


1 40  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Careful!"  she  warned.  "Your  face  is  shouting 
our  secret." 

He  drew  his  cap  down  over  his  eyes,  and  clasping 
his  hands  behind  his  head,  stretched  his  feet  out 
lazily. 

The  nurse  came  toward  them,  and  Hope  with  a 
swift  movement  slipped  her  pencil  beneath  her  on  the 
bench.  She  looked  nervously  about  and  then  as  the 
woman  stood  before  her,  she  glanced  up  with  troubled 
appeal. 

"I've  lost  my  pencil,"  she  said.  "I  was  writing 
a  beautiful  story,  but  what  can  I  do  without  a  pen 
cil?" 

Kelsey,  as  if  he  hadn't  noticed  her  before,  took  a 
pencil  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  her.  She 
thanked  him  and  began  to  write  again. 

"She'll  keep  that  up  for  hours,"  the  nurse  smiled  at 
Kelsey.  "Not  a  word  out  of  her,  and  never  moving 
from  the  spot.  Lucky  for  me,  too.  Her  sister  is  on 
the  sick  list  and  I've  got  charge  of  Verna,  but  my 
hands  are  full  this  afternoon  with  Miss  Susy  Doane. 
She's  seeing  mashers  peeping  out  from  behind  every 
bush,  trying  to  flirt  with  her." 

"Nothing  serious  the  matter  with  Miss  Copley,  I 
hope?"  Kelsey  murmured  politely. 

"Oh,  no;  just  a  headache.  She's  up  this  afternoon, 
but  she's  a  little  shaky  yet,  and  doesn't  want  to  go  on 
duty  until  to-morrow." 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  scream.     The  patient  she 


SWALLOWED  UP  141 

had  just  left  was  backing  away  in  terror  from  a  pas 
sing  gardener. 

"All  right,  Miss  Susy,"  called  the  nurse.  "He  won't 
speak  to  you.  I'll  be  right  there  and  protect  you." 

She  turned  to  the  girl  on  the  bench.  "Now  you'll 
stay  here,  dear,  until  I  come  for  you,  won't  you?" 
Then  she  hurried  away. 

"There's  only  one  thing  that  bothers  me,"  Hope 
resumed  the  discussion  of  their  plan,  "and  that's  the 
question  of  time.  They  force  us  to  go  in  at  six 
o'clock,  you  know,  and  you  may  not  be  able  to  do 
your  part  so  soon.  If  not,  I  must  stay  behind." 

"I  will  never  leave  without  you,"  Kelsey  declared 
firmly. 

"You  must.  To-night  is  our  one  opportunity. 
Promise  me  that,  whatever  happens,  you  will  go.  It 
doesn't  matter  if  I  am  left  behind  for  the  short  time  it 
will  take  you  to  reach  my  father." 

"It  matters  so  much,"  he  returned,  "that  I  would 
never  dream  of  leaving  you  alone  with  these  people 
But  that  is  not  all.  I  not  only  won't  leave  you  behind, 
but  I  can't."  And  he  told  her  why. 

"That  makes  it  more  complicated."  Her  voice  fell. 
"But  never  mind,"  she  said  resolutely.  "We're  going. 
Nothing  shall  stop  us." 

They  talked  a  moment  or  two  longer,  and  then  Kel 
sey  giving  a  start  as  if  he  had  just  awakened  from  a 
reverie,  got  up  and  walked  back  to  the  house. 

There  was  a  hard  smile  on  his  lips  as  he  passed 


1 42  SWALLOWED  UP 

through  the  hall.  By  the  irony  of  circumstances  he 
was  booked  to  play  the  role  which  Bristow  had  fas 
tened  on  him.  For  the  next  two  or  three  hours,  his 
"actor  personality"  was  to  have  a  chance,  and  catching 
a  glimpse  of  himself  in  a  mirror  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor,  he  reflected  that  he  needed  no  make-up  for 
his  part.  Nature  had  provided  that. 

His  sleepless  night,  the  full  realization  of  the  dan 
gers  that  threatened  Hope,  the  feeling  that  he  was 
about  to  embark  on  the  most  momentous  adventure  of 
his  life  had  left  him  haggard  and  pale. 

Back  in  the  office  again,  he  worked  steadily  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  dropped  his  pen  and  pressed  his 
hands  to  his  temples  with  an  uncontrollable  groan. 

"Something  the  matter,  Doctor?"  Bristow's  secre 
tary  who  was  working  across  the  room  looked  up  sym 
pathetically. 

"A  touch  of  my  old  enemy,  neuralgia,"  Kelsey 
answered.  "I  slept  in  a  draft  last  night." 

"Why  don't  you  lay  off?"  urged  the  secretary. 
"I'll  explain  to  Dr.  Bristow." 

"No,"  said  Kelsey  drearily;  "I'll  stick.  It's  rather 
important  to  get  these  notes  off  this  afternoon.  I  had 
a  pretty  bad  twinge  just  now,  but  it  may  pass  away." 

But  again  and  again  during  the  afternoon,  he 
writhed  in  unmistakable  pain.  After  the  secretary 
left  at  five  o'clock,  he  made  hardly  any  pretense  at 
writing,  but  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  twisting 
about  in  his  chair  as  each  fresh  paroxysm  seized  him. 


SWALLOWED  UP  143 

At  about  ten  minutes  of  six  Bristow  came  in,  wear 
ing  a  cap  and  a  motor  coat  over  his  evening  clothes, 
ready  to  start  for  town;  and  he  at  once  noticed  the 
condition  of  his  collaborator. 

"What's  wrong,  man?"  he  asked  quickly.  "You 
look  done  up." 

"One  of  my  ghastly  neuralgia  attacks."  Kelsey 
tried  to  suppress  another  groan.  "I'm  afraid  I  haven't 
been  able  to  accomplish  much  this  afternoon.  The 
darned  thing  has  been  growing  worse  all  day,  and 
although  I've  tried  all  my  usual  remedies,  I  don't  seem 
to  get  on  top  of  it.  I'm  wondering  if  you  will  give  me 
a  shot  of  morphine — a  good  stiff  one?" 

"Surely."  Bristow  laid  down  his  gloves,  and  pas 
sing  into  a  lavatory  just  off  the  office,  prepared  his 
hypodermic. 

Kelsey  with  his  eye  on  the  clock  waited,  barely  able 
to  control  his  impatience.  The  precious  minutes  were 
racing  away.  How  slow  the  beast  was.  Would  he 
never  come  ? 

At  last,  the  Doctor  was  back.  Kelsey  had  already 
taken  off  his  coat  and  rolled  up  his  shirt  sleeve,  and 
now  he  apathetically  extended  his  left  arm. 

But  as  Bristow  bent  over  to  apply  the  needle,  Kel- 
sey's  right  shot  up  in  a  quick,  wicked  smash  to  the 
Doctor's  jaw.  A  good  boxer  in  his  college  days,  he 
had  never  driven  to  the  button  with  a  better  aim.  The 
blow  landed  squarely  on  the  side  of  the  chin,  and 
backed  by  the  nervous  tension  behind  it,  and  Kelsey's 


144  SWALLOWED  UP 

overpowering  hatred  of  the  man,  almost  with  force 
enough  to  split  an  oak  plank. 

Bristow's  head  snapped  back,  and  lifted  fairly  off 
his  feet,  he  went  backward  to  land  across  a  leather 
couch  several  feet  away,  where  he  lay  dead  to  the 
world. 

Kelsey  snatched  the  hypodermic  from  the  floor,  and 
jerking  open  the  cuff  of  Bristow's  shirt,  pushed  it 
back  and  drove  the  needle  into  his  arm. 

"There,  I  guess  that  will  hold  you  for  a  while!" 

As  he  straightened  up,  the  clock  was  on  the  stroke 
of  six.  This  was  the  hour  when  the  nurses  and  at 
tendants  would  be  shepherding  in  the  patients,  and  the 
veranda  would  be  deserted.  With  .one  vindictive 
glance  at  the  unconscious  Bristow,  Kelsey  walked  out 
of  the  office  and  locked  the  door  behind  him. 

But  all  this  had  taken  time.  As  he  hurried  through 
the  hall  he  was  tortured  with  apprehension.  If  he 
were  too  late?  If  Hope  had  already  been  driven  into 
the  house? 

A  glance  from  the  door,  and  he  saw  that  every 
thing  else  was  as  he  hoped.  There  was  no  one  about. 
Even  the  chauffeur  was  not  in  sight,  having  left  the  big, 
gray  car  in  the  roadway,  while  he  strolled  around  to 
the  side  of  the  house  to  engage  in  badinage  with  one 
of  the  attendants. 

Kelsey's  eyes  swept  the  lawn.  Hope  was  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  For  one  terrible  second,  he  thought  the 
game  was  up — and  then  he  saw  her.  She  was  clinging 


SWALLOWED  UP  145 

to  one  of  the  porch  pillars,  obstinately  resisting  all  the 
efforts  of  the  nurse  to  disengage  her. 

Kelsey  took  a  step  toward  them,  and  the  nurse  saw 
him. 

"Do  help  me,  Dr.  Kelsey,"  she  begged.  "I  don't 
know  what's  got  into  her.  She's  usually  so  amenable, 
but  now  she  refuses  to  go  in.  I've  sent  for  her 
sister;  but  maybe,  if  you'll  speak  to  her,  she'll  listen." 

Kelsey  waved  the  woman  to  stand  aside,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  Hope's  arm. 

As  if  yielding  to  a  superior  will,  she  let  go  of  the 
pillar ;  and  with  the  manner  of  soothing  her,  he  led 
her  along  the  veranda. 

"Now!"  he  said  when  they  reached  the  steps  lead 
ing  down  to  the  drive ;  and  catching  her  hand,  he 
rushed  her  down,  and  swung  her  up  into  Bristow's  big 
car.  As  he  leaped  in  after  her,  she  grasped  the  start 
ing  lever,  threw  in  the  gears,  and  they  were  off. 

Across  the  lawn  she  drove,  over  the  flower-beds 
and  low  shrubbery,  heading  straight  for  the  gap  in 
the  wall. 

A  man  stationed  there  whirled  about,  thinking  the 
car  was  running  wild,  and  scrambled  for  safety.  He 
was  just  in  time.  Through  the  hedge  they  smashed; 
then,  with  a  bump  and  a  lunge,  leaped  the  trench  which 
had  been  dug  for  the  wall's  new  foundation,  and  with 
a  deft  twirl  of  the  wheel  swung  into  the  road  beyond. 

"I  couldn't  have  done  that,  even  if  I  knew  how  to 
run  a  car,"  Kelsey  gasped.  "As  I  told  you,  I  never 


i46  SWALLOWED  UP 

drove  one  in  my  life.     I  had  to  have  you  with  me  to 
get  away." 

There  had  been  no  sound  behind  them.  Their  sud 
den  action,  the  daring  of  it,  seemed  to  paralyze  the 
two  spectators.  Then  there  came  a  loud,  angry, 
scream.  Kelsey  glancing  back  saw  Anita  Copley 
flying  down  the  veranda  steps,  calling  for  the  chauf 
feur,  and  shouting  orders  as  she  ran. 

"They'll  be  after  us  like  a  shot!"     He  knew  the 
woman's  ability  in  a  crisis.     "Drive  like  the  devil!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

THERE  was  no  light-hearted  conversation  with 
Gibbs,  as  Charlie  plodded  along  the  oil-soaked 
highway  following  those  elusive  tire-tracks. 

One  can  not  always  be  sportive.  Occasions  will 
arise  which  tend  to  more  serious  reflection,  and  push 
ing  a  disabled  motor-cycle  over  an  uncertain  distance, 
under  a  broiling  sun,  and  in  pursuit  of  a  long-vanished 
flivver  is  one  of  them.  The  June  afternoon  which  in 
his  leafy  tree-top  had  seemed  a  foretaste  of  heaven, 

out  here  on  the  reeking-  road  was Well,  it  was 

hot.  The  sweat  ran  down  his  face;  the  smell  of  the  oil 
got  up  his  nose  and  into  his  throat;  the  going  was 
slippery,  and  the  motor-cycle  yawed  perversely  on  un 
expected  tacks.  And,  back  of  it  all,  was  the  dismal 
persuasion  that  it  was  a  wasted  effort,  a  forlorn  hope 
bound  to  end  in  failure — that  he  was  a  rather  ridi 
culous  tortoise  outstripped  by  a  wiser  hare. 

So  Charlie's  self-communings  were  without  either 
espigleric  or  originality,  just  the  good,  old  stand-bys 
usually  expressed  in  print  by  dashes — the  same  prob 
ably  that  were  employed  by  the  army  in  Flanders. 

He  swore  himself  finally  to  a  garage  about  three 
miles  down  the  road;  and,  lo,  as  he  wearily  turned  in 
toward  it,  Gibbs,  symbol  of  all-rightness  with  the 
world,  was  again  at  his  side.  For  there,  leading  up 


148  SWALLOWED  UP 

to  the  gasoline  reservoir  and  pump  in  front  of  the 
place  were  four  tire  tracks,  three  smooth  and  one  cor 
rugated,  which  he  had  lost  for  the  last  half  mile  in 
the  cross-hatchings  of  traffic. 

"The  only  question,  old  topi,"  Charlie  observed  to 
his  shadowy  familiar,  "is  whether  they  stopped  for 
repairs,  or  merely  for  gas?  You  can't  tell,  with  the 
tracks  running  onto  that  patch  of  cobblestones  just 
the  other  side  of  the  reservoir." 

It  was  quickly  settled,  though;  for  as  he  pushed  his 
motor-cycle  in  at  the  door  of  the  garage,  the  first  thing 
he  saw  was  the  flivver  shoved  back  against  the  wall. 
No  possibility  of  a  mistake,  with  those  tell-tale  tires, 
and  the  license-plate,  No.  2,155,633,  staring  him  in 
the  face. 

Charlie's  glance  flirted  over  the  interior  of  the  place, 
seeking  the  two  men  who  had  been  in  the  car;  but 
there  was  no  sign  of  them.  The  garage  was  simply 
a  long,  one-story  shed  with  a  metal  roof  and  a  concrete 
floor  on  which  oil  and  water  lay  about  in  little  puddles, 
a  row  of  unwashed  windows  along  each  side,  and  wide 
doors  opening  at  either  end.  There  were  no  par 
titions;  even  the  "office"  was  just  a  battered  desk 
propped  up  in  one  corner.  The  whole  was  open  to  plain 
view,  and  the  only  persons  about,  besides  the  proprietor, 
were  a  mechanic  operating  a  power-lathe  at  the  back 
of  the  shop  and  a  shock-headed,  half-grown  boy. 

But  if  the  men  he  wanted  were  not  there,  their 
car  was,  and  undoubtedly  they  would  return.  The 


SWALLOWED  UP  149 

proprietor  must  know  them;  he  might  even  be  a  con 
federate.  For  that  matter,  the  bonds  might  be  se 
creted  in  the  garage. 

As  Charlie  explained  the  difficulty  with  his  motor 
cycle,  he  took  quick  stock  of  the  man  from  the  dented 
derby  hat  on  his  head  to  the  soles  of  his  spattered 
shoes.  Whatever  the  defects  in  Charlie's  education, 
he  could  qualify  as  an  expert  in  what  Mr.  Alexander 
Pope  once  called,  "the  proper  study  of  mankind." 
His  judgment  of  persons  was  apt  to  be  uncannily  cor 
rect  ;  and  he  was  now  inclined  to  the  opinion  that  the 
garage-keeper  was  straight,  having  neither  connection 
with  or  knowledge  of  the  affair  at  the  archway.  He 
was  merely  a  surly,  taciturn  fellow  whom  it  would 
be  hard  to  pump,  even  though  he  had  nothing  to 
conceal. 

So  far  his  sole  response  to  Charlie's  story  of  hard 
luck — certain  details  modified — had  been  an  in 
different  grunt.  He  didn't  seem  to  care  why  a  new 
spark-plug  was  required,  or  for  the  fact  that  his  cus 
tomer  had  been  compelled  to  walk  six  miles — what 
was  the  increase  of  a  mile  or  so  between  friends? — 
or  for  any  of  the  rest  of  it. 

To  Charlie  impassivity  was  always  a  challenge. 
Wooden  stares  and  bottled-up  silences  were  spurs  to 
his  ingenuity.  One  o<f  his  favorite  mottoes  was : 

O  r/ 

"The  glummer  they  are,  the  easier  they  blow  off."  All 
that  was  needed  was  to  sound  the  note  of  self-inter 
est. 


1 50  SWALLOWED  UP 

So  as  his  tongue  wagged  on  in  the  recital  of  his 
adventures,  he  was  thinking.  The  one  infallible  ap 
peal  to  an  automobile  man  was  the  chance  to  make  a 
sale  and  pocket  a  comfortable  commission. 

Charlie  had  already  represented  himself  as  a  can 
vasser  taking  orders  for  "put-it-together-yourself" 
furniture;  and  he  now  deftly  turned  to  an  account  of 
his  fictitious  tribulations  in  this  calling. 

"What  I  need,"  he  said,  "is  half  a  dozen  or  so  dif 
ferent  lines  of  household  necessities.  Then  if  they 
didn't  want  furniture,  I  could  shift  off  to  silverware, 
mouse-traps,  brooms  and  brushes,  patent  fire-escapes, 
or  bungalow  aprons.  I'd  be  sure  to  catch  'em  some 
where  along  the  line. 

"But  the  trouble  with  that,"  he  pulled  at  his  lip,  "is, 
that  I'd  have  to  carry  such  a  raft  of  samples.  I've 
been  wondering  if  it  wouldn't  pay  me  to  chuck  the 
old  motor-cycle,  and  buy  me  a  nice  little  car  that  I 
could  load  up  with  my  stuff." 

The  gleam  of  venal  interest  he  had  anticipated, 
brightened  the  garage-keeper's  dull  eye,  and  for  the 
first  time  he  unbent  to  articulate  speech. 

"Sure  looks  like  good  business  to  me,"  he  agreed. 
"An'  'twouldn't  really  cost  you  no  more  to  run  a  car 
than  it  does  your  motor-cycle." 

"Except  for  the  first  expense,"  said  Charlie.  "No; 
I  don't  suppose  it  would.  And  I  wouldn't  want  a 
great,  big,  high-powered  car,  you  understand."  His 
eye  fell  as  if  by  chance  on  the  flivver.  "Now  there's  a 


SWALLOWED  UP  151 

little  trick  that  would  suit  me  first  rate.  Doesn't 
happen  to  be  for  sale,  does  it?" 

''Shouldn't  wonder,"  the  garage  man  led  the  way 
toward  it,  and  threw  back  the  hood  for  inspection. 

"You  know  the  party  that  owns  it,  then?"  Charlie 
could  hardly  keep  the  thrill  of  eagerness  out  of  his 
voice. 

"Oh,  yes;  best  of  friends.  Whatever  I  say,  he'll 
stand  for." 

"Wonder  if  I'm  acquainted  with  him?  I  know 
quite  a  number  of  people  around  here." 

"Well,  you  might  call  it  bein'  'quainted,"  with  heavy 
jocularity;  "seein'  that  you're  talkin'  to  him  right  now. 
I'm  the  owner  of  this  bus,  Captain." 

Fortunately  he  did  not  see  Charlie's  face.  His 
mind  was  bent  wholly  upon  making  a  sale,  and  he 
wanted  to  present  his  goods  to  the  best  advantage. 

"  'Course  she  ain't  lookin'  her  prettiest,"  apolo 
getically.  "She's  just  in  off  the  road ;  and,  with  this  ile 
all  over  everything,  she's  kind  of  spattered  up.  Coupla 
strangers  come  in  here  with  a  big  tourin'  car  that  they 
said  wasn't  hittin'  right,  and  asked  me  if  I  could  let 
'em  have  a  machine  to  go  over  White  Plains  way, 
while  their'n  was  bein'  fixed.  So  I  rented  'em  the 
little  boat.  But,  shucks,  they  might  as  well  have  used 
their  own;  there  wasn't  nothin'  wrong  with  it  that  I 
could  see,  'cept  a  loose  bolt  or  two.  I  had  it  runnin' 
like  a  watch  in  three  minutes.  Guess  they're  green  at 
the  game,  an'  got  scared." 


1 52  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Likely  the  two  men  I  saw  pulling  away  from  here 
just  as  I  came  in."  Charlie  was  fishing  desperately. 
"One  of  them  hatchet-faced  with  a  black  mustache? 
Had  a  five-passenger,  didn't  they,  with  four  '6s'  in  the 
license  number?" 

"Nope."  The  proprietor  shook  his  head.  "Both  these 
boys  was  smooth-faced;  nothin'  special  about  'em  one 
way  or  the  other,  I'd  say.  An'  'twas  a  seven-passenger 
they  had."  He  named  a  popular  make  of  automobile 
of  which  there  were  probably  thousands  in  New  York. 

"I  didn't  notice  the  license  number,"  he  said.  "Did 
you,  Sam?"  turning  to  the  shock-headed  boy.  But 
the  latter  had  been  equally  unobservant. 

Charlie  recognized  with  a  sense  of  utter  frustration 
that  it  was  useless  to  probe  further.  All  he  could  get 
was  a  description  of  the  two  men  so  vague  that  it 
would  fit  a  million  others,  and  a  lack  of  any  identi 
fying  details  for  the  car.  The  flivver  on  which  he 
had  based  such  high  hopes  had  been  a  will-o-the-wisp, 
leading  him  deeper  into  the  bog.  He  was  done. 

He  let  the  garage  man  go  on  talking,  expatiating 
on  the  merits  of  the  car  in  the  effort  to  make  a  sale, 
and  even  offered  an  occasional  comment  or  question. 
He  did  not  admit  it  to  himself,  but  he  was  staving  off 
the  moment  when  he  would  have  to  face  Ranger  and 
confess  that  he  had  bungled.  Like  the  gambler  whose 
last  chip  has  been  swept  away,  he  still  lingered  at  the 
table  and  watched  the  fall  of  the  cards  unwilling  to 
believe  that  he  was  cleaned  out. 


SWALLOWED  UP  153 

"Wait  now,"  the  garage-keeper  was  saying,  "till 
I  turn  over  the  engine  for  you,  and  then  you  can  see 
for  yourself  that  I  ain't  misstated  nothin'  to  you. 
Come  here,  Sam,  and  crank  her  up  for  me." 

But  as  Sam  shambled  around  to  the  front  of  the 
flivver,  and  Charlie  and  the  proprietor  leaned  over  to 
watch  the  test,  they  were  interrupted  by  a  hail  from 
the  doorway.  A  party  of  people  in  a  touring  car  had 
just  driven  up,  and  were  making  signals  of  distress. 
The  garage  man  relapsed  into  his  professional  phlegm. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  he  said.  "I  gotta  see  what 
these  pests  want.  Then  I'll  be  back." 

Charlie  leaned  back  against  the  wheel  of  the  flivver, 
and  while  he  waited  rolled  a  cigarette.  He  was  chas 
ing  ideas,  trying  to  invent  some  way  of  softening  the 
blow  to  Ranger.  But  depressed  by  disappointment 
and  humiliation,  his  faculties  seemed  befogged.  He 
was  conscious  only  of  a  resentment  against  fate.  His 
"dope"  throughout  had  been  absolutely  correct,  his 
strategy  faultless ;  and  yet  he  had  been  whipsawed  at 
every  turn.  Of  what  use  to  pit  one's  self  against 
an  organization  possessed  of  such  infallible  foresight 
and  resource?  He  gave  a  little  gesture  of  impotence, 
and  scattered  the  tobacco  he  was  rolling  to  the  floor. 

With  a  muttered  imprecation  at  his  awkwardness, 
he  reached  for  his  sack;  and  as  he  did  so,  saw  the 
garage  man  complete  his  examination  of  the  car  at 
the  door,  and  shake  his  head  at  the  owner. 

"This  here  is  a  job  that's  going  to  take  a  couple 


154  SWALLOWED  UP 

of  hours,"  he  announced ;  "and  you  can't  go  on  in  the 
shape  you're  in,  gears  all  pulled  loose.  You  folks  '11 
just  have  to  pile  out  and  stick  around,  till  I  get  it  fixed 
up." 

There  were  protests,  exclamations,  remonstrances; 
but  the  garage  man  was  firm,  and  in  the  end  the 
party,  four  women  and  two  men  besides  the  driver, 
with  American  good  humor  under  trying  circum 
stances,  got  out  of  the  car  and  the  proprietor  and  Sam 
rolled  it  into  the  shop. 

Regarding  this  as  a  good  opportunity  to  get  away, 
Charlie  called  to  the  garage  keeper  that  he  would  be 
back  presently  and  started  for  the  door.  Without 
looking  at  the  group  of  stranded  motorists,  he  pushed 
his  motor-cycle  past  them,  when  he  was  stopped  by  a 
high-pitched,  faintly  familiar  voice  calling ; 

"Oh,  how  'd  y'  do!" 

He  looked  up  to  see  a  pretty  girl  in  futuristically 
vivid  sport  things  moving  toward  him. 

For  a  moment  he  was  puzzled,  and  then  he  remem 
bered  her  as  the  strayed  Princess  of  the  smart  little 
millinery  shop  where  he  and  Ranger  had  bought  the 
hat. 

On  an  outing,  she  had  laid  aside  temporarily  some 
thing  of  her  professional  hauteur;  but  one  does  not 
easily  discard  an  habitual  pose,  and  her  chin  still  held 
its  proud  angle ;  her  movements  even  in  the  mood  of 
holiday  abandon  were  languidly  suggestive  of  the  man 
nequin  on  parade. 


SWALLOWED  UP  155 

"Juliet !"  he  exclaimed,  sweeping  off  his  hat.  "To 
think  that  you  remembered  me  after  all  these  years !" 

"How  could  I  forget  the  man  who  ordered  that — 
that  lid!"  Laughter  struggled  with  statuesque  repose 
and  won.  "Oh,  you  men!  You're  a  scream  when  it 
comes  to  millinery.  Too  bad,"  her  charming  mouth 
drawn  down,  her  eyes  full  of  mocking  commiseration, 
"that  your  lady  friend  didn't  like  the  hat." 

At  her  words,  a  splinter  of  lightning  went  through 
Charlie  and  shivered  along  his  spine.  In  the  black, 
boggy  depths  of  his  slough  of  despond  there  flashed 
a  ray  of  hope.  It  blinded  him  for  one  moment, 
but  in  the  next  he  was  himself  again — Juarez  Charlie, 
cool,  needle-witted  the  hunting  dog  catching  a  scent 
and  steadying  to  a  point. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  humble  canvasser 
of  "put-it-together-yourself"  furniture  became 
without  change  of  costume  or  stage  properties 
the  sophisticated,  world-worn  man  of  affairs. 

Juarez  Charlie  chose  this  characterization  from  his 
extensive  repertoire,  because  he  felt  that  it  would  most 
impress  the  Princess  and  impel  those  confidences 
which  he  was  determined  to  win.  Also  it  was  one  of 
his  best.  There  was  in  it  a  hint  of  John  Drew,  of 
Faversham,  their  polite  polish  rather  satirically  under 
scored  by  the  Puck-like  freakishness  of  Charlie  Chaplin. 

"She  didn't  like  the  hat?"  he  repeated,  lifting  his 
shoulders  and  eyebrows  at  the  same  time.  "Capri 
cious,  capricious  creatures,  you  women."  He  shrug 
ged  off  the  possibility  of  ever  understanding  them. 
"And  false,  too.  She  raved  about  it  to  me,  swore  that 
she  was  delighted  with  it." 

The  Princess  laughed,  but  looked  at  him  doubt 
fully.  A  pretty  trick  of  hers,  he  found  space  in  his 
mind  to  record — that  way  of  looking  up  through  her 
long  lashes. 

"You're  such  a  kidder,"  she  said,  "I  don't  quite 
make  you.  But,  just  the  same,  there's  something 
queer  about  it  all." 

He  wanted  devoutly  to  assure  her  that  there  was 

156 


SWALLOWED  UP  157 

something  very  queer  about  it  all,  and  that  he  meant 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  before  he  parted 
from  her.  But  a  light  touch  was  best  now.  Her 
curiosity  was  aroused;  let  it  seethe  a  bit  until  if 
reached  the  boiling  point.  If  he  showed  his  anxiety 
to  learn  what  she  knew,  she  might  take  a  perverse 
pleasure  in  withholding  her  information.  Women 
were  like  that. 

But  he  must  devise  some  plan  of  sticking  to  her 
closer  than  a  brother,  and  the  one  sure  way  was  to 
enhance  his  own  importance  and  thus  stir  her  imagi 
nation.  Against  his  inclination,  he  deliberately  changed 
the  subject. 

''Fancy  meeting  you  here,"  a  flattering  touch  of 
sentiment  in  his  smile;  "partners  in  hard  luck,  one 
might  say,  both  victims  of  a  break-down.  Bless  the 
break-down,"  with  light  fervor.  "When  I  had  mine 
I  was  hurrying  back  to  a  board-meeting  from  my 
friend  Loring  Ranger's  place  over  yonder." 

She  gave  the  start  he  expected.  That  name  was 
too  familiar  to  readers  of  newspapers  to  escape  notice. 

"You  mean  the  father  of  Hope  Ranger?"  She 
showed  all  the  blueness  of  her  widened  eyes. 

"Yes;  poor  Lorry!"  He  was  not  acting  now. 
"It's  a  time  when  he  needs  all  his  friends  about  him. 
But," — back  in  his  role  again — "as  I  was  about  to  say, 
I  can  hardly  regret  my  accident  since  it  brought  me  the 
opportunity  of  meeting  you  once  more." 

Her   coquettish   smile   was   a   mere   automatic   re- 


i58  SWALLOWED  UP 

sponse  to  his  gallantry.  She  saw  the  possibilities  of 
the  situation.  Most  persons  feel  a  certain  relish  in 
being  connected  even  indirectly  with  those  in  the 
world's  spot-light. 

"Oh!"  With  an  inflation  of  her  best  great-lady 
manner,  she  turned  to  her  friends.  "I  want  all  you 
folks  to  meet  Mr.— 

"Juarez,"   Charlie  suavely  helped  her  out. 

"Mr.  Juarez."  Her  tone  showed  that  the  oil  and 
sugar  name  had  its  effect.  "Surely!  Mr.  Juarez 
shake  hands  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greenberg,"  motion 
ing  to  the  driver  of  the  car  and  his  wife.  "Mr. 
Juarez,  Miss  Schupp,  Miss  McCarthy,  Mr.Dave  Green- 
berg  and  Mr.  Leffler,"  she  ran  through  the  circle. 
"Mr.  Juarez  is  just  back  from  a  visit  to  the  father  of 
Hope  Ranger." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greenberg,  Mr.  Dave  Greenberg, 
Miss  Schupp,  Miss  McCarthy  and  Mr.  Leffler  im 
mediately  became  animated  interrogation  points. 
Charlie  was  the  target  for  a  bombardment  of  rapid- 
fire  questions,  based  on  the  more  sensational  rumors 
in  circulation. 

Was  it  true  that  Hope  had  followed  a  Bolshevist 
lover  to  Russia?  How  about  the  report  that  she  had 
been  seen  in  Montreal  playing  in  the  chorus  of  a 
burlesque  company?  Had  she  realty  been  arrested  for 
shop-lifting  and  concealed  her  identity  in  order  not 
to  disgrace  her  family,  the  fiction  of  her  disappearance 
being  kept  up  now  to  hoodwink  the  public? 


SWALLOWED  UP  159 

Charlie  answered  guardedly,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  could  tell  a  great  deal  but  whose  lips  were  for  the 
moment  sealed.  He  was  the  finished  diplomat  of  a 
Pinero  play,  urbane,  affable,  but  always  elusive. 

While  they  questioned  and  commented  and  ad 
vanced  different  theories,  he  was  revolving  an  expe 
dient  which  had  suggested  itself  to  him  as  the  best 
means  of  separating  the  Princess  from  the  rest  of 
the  party. 

"By  the  way,"  he  appeared  to  speak  under  sudden 
inspiration,  "Lone  Hill  Inn  is  only  a  short  distance 
from  here,  and  you  will  be  held  two  hours  before  your 
car  is  ready  for  the  road.  Won't  you  all  be  my  guests 
at  dinner?  We  can  probably  get  some  kind  of  a  con 
veyance  to  take  us  over." 

But  Mrs.  Greenberg  thriftily  protested.  "Na,  Na!" 
she  wagged  her  head  negatively.  "That  would  be 
imposin'  on  good  nature,  Mr.  Woozer.  I've  heard 
how  they  sting  you  over  to  that  Lone  Hill  Inn.  My 
sister-in-law  stopped  there  once,  and  she  says  all  they 
had  was  crabmeat  salad  and  tea  for  three,  and  when 
the  check  come — would  you  believe  it? — it  was  thirteen 
dollars  and  forty  cents.  Posit-ive-ly.  Not  countin' 
the  waiter. 

"Na,  Na!  If  you  want  to  take  Miss  Da  Costa  and 
go,  it's  all  right.  We'll  wait  until  you  get  back. 
And  you  needn't  mind  about  us  here.  We've  got  a 
good  lunch  in  the  car." 

The  Princess  demurred  faint-heartedly,  and  Charlie, 


160  SWALLOWED  UP 

who  wanted  to  pat  Mrs.  Greenberg's  fat  shoulder  for 
this  show  of  tact  and  sound  common-sense,  pretended 
to  accept  her  decision  with  reluctance. 

"Go  ahead,  Elsie,"  urged  Miss  Schupp  and  Miss 
McCarthy.  There  was  no  question  in  their  minds 
that  their  friend  had  made  the  conquest  of  an  eccentric 
millionaire,  and  they  were  generously  inclined  to  help 
the  good  cause  along. 

Juarez  Charlie,  fearing  a  change  of  mind,  hurried 
the  Princess  into  the  garage-keeper's  flivver,  and  they 
drove  away  with  the  shock-headed  boy  acting  as 
chauffeur. 

His  proximity  and  willingness  to  overhear  every 
thing  that  was  said  permitted  nothing  but  the  most 
casual  conversation,  mostly  in  the  nature  of  badin 
age  on  Charlie's  part — the  tissue-paper  wrapping  of 
the  caramel  of  admiration — which  the  Princess  re 
ceived  with  appreciative  laughter  and  such  comments 
as,  "Quit  your  joshing,"  "Better  keep  that  salve;  you 
might  stub  your  toe,"  and,  "Swell  line  of  bunk  you 
carry,  Mr.  Man." 

But  under  his  lively  banter  he  never  forgot  his 
purpose.  Yet  even  after  they  reached  the  Inn  and  were 
seated  at  a  small  table,  the  gentle  flattering  third  de 
gree  which  awaited  the  Princess  had  still  to  be  de 
ferred. 

In  that  expensive  environment,  with  groups  and 
couples  of  the  new-rich  all  about  them,  and  one  of 
those  intimately  attentive  waiters  hovering  over  them, 


SWALLOWED  UP  161 

Miss  Da  Costa  became  self-consciously  absorbed  in 
her  own  impersonation — the  finished  cosmopolite 
viewing  the  multitude  through  a  non-existent  lorg 
nette. 

In  order  to  recapture  her  wandering  attention, 
and  also  to  get  rid  of  the  too-solicitous  waiter  who  in 
spired  the  irritation  of  a  persistently  buzzing  fly, 
Charlie  began  to  consult  her  about  the  menu,  ordering 
so  prodigally  that  she  gasped  and  remonstrated. 
And  when  a  girl  from  an  exclusive  little  shop  in  the 
Fifties  puts  the  brakes  on  a  dinner  order,  the  ultima 
thule  of  extravagance  is  in  sight. 

If  Charlie  had  not  been  so  engrossed  in  contriving 
the  best  method  of  securing  the  last  scrap  of  infor 
mation  the  girl  had  to  give,  he  might  have  noticed 
that  her  pose  was  as  near  cracking  as  his  own.  Her 
responses  now  were  forced,  and  punctuated  by  sud 
den  silences. 

She  seemed  to  be  turning  something  over  and  over 
in  her  mind.  Suddenly  she  came  back  to  the  present, 
all  vivacity,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling. 

"Do  you  know,  I've  just  been  thinking  about  that 
hat,  and  I  believe  I've  struck  it  at  last.  Of  course 
as  soon  as  you  spoke  of  having  been  to  Loring  Ran 
ger's,  I  knew  that  it  was  him  who  was  in  there  with  you 
that  day — funny  I  didn't  recognize  him  at  the  time — 
but  I  couldn't  see  why  he  had  bought  that  freak  of 
a  hat. 

"I've    hit    it    now,    though.     Listen."     She    made 


1 62  SWALLOWED  UP 

little  spears  at  him  with  her  fork.  "Hope  Ranger's 
not  missing  at  all.  She's  going  into  musical  comedy 
or  the  pictures,  and  this  hullabaloo  is  all  a  publicity 
stunt.  I'm  right?" 

Charlie's  expression  committed  him  to  nothing;  but 
the  quick  droop  of  his  eyelids  seemed  at  once  to  shield 
the  secret  and  admit  the  possibility. 

"You  think  fast,  little  one.  Go  on,  and  I'll  tell  you 
whether  you're  getting  warm  or  not." 

"Well,  as  I  take  it,  Hope  didn't  like  your  choice; 
so  she  tossed  it  over  to  her  maid,  and  the  maid  saw 
a  chance  to  make  on  it  and  brought  it  back.  I  suppose 
it  was  the  maid,  although  I'd  have  sworn —  She 

paused,  tapping  her  white  brow  with  a  glittering  finger 
nail.  "Say,"  her  face  clearing;  "is  the  Ranger  girl 
sick?" 

Charlie,  unable  to  follow  her,  leaned  nearer  across 
the  table. 

"But  what  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Because  I  simply  couldn't  place  that  woman  as  any 
thing  but  a  trained  nurse.  She  acted  like  she'd  been 
born  in  a  white  cap,  and  learned  her  letters  off  a  fever- 
chart." 

The  slight  pallor  of  excitement  showed  through 
Charlie's  dark  skin.  He  reached  for  the  carafe,  and 
filled  the  Princess's  glass. 

"A  tall,  blonde  woman?"  He  tried  the  ruse  he  had 
used  on  the  garage-keeper. 

"No;    medium-sized    and    dark.     Attractive.     She 


SWALLOWED  UP  163 

wanted  to  exchange  it  for  a  prim,  little  toque.  She 
knew  right  where  she  was,  too.  I  told  her,  we  never 
made  exchanges,  and  she  came  straight  back,  said  the 
ostrich  plumes  and  the  'paradise'  were  worth  half  a 
dozen  small  hats  and  she  only  wanted  one.  Well,  the 
long  and  short  of  it  was  that  I  agreed  to  have  a  duve- 
tyn  toque  made  up  for  her,  and  send  it  to  her  at  the 
hospital." 

Charlie's  spoon  clattered  against  his  demi-tasse. 
His  hand  shook  as  he  recovered  it  and  his  self-control 
at  the  same  time.  He  lowered  his  voice  confidentially. 

"Mrs.  Ranger  has  not  been  well.  But  don't  tell  any 
one  that  she's  in  a  hospital." 

"Oh,  that's  it?  Then  I  did  get  it  right."  She 
showed  a  natural  pride  in  having  her  surmises  con 
firmed. 

"You  say  the  woman  left  her  address?"  He  looked 
a  little  worried.  "We  have  to  be  so  careful  about 
anything  getting  out." 

"Yes;  she  wrote  it  down  for  me:  Doctor — Doc 
tor — something's — Sanitarium,  Barcelona,  Long  Is 
land.  Wait  a  minute!  I've  got  the  name.  Bris- 
tow.  Doctor  Bristow's  Sanitarium." 

Charlie  felt  an  insane  impulse  to  get  up  and  wave 
his  arms  and  shout.  The  Princess  was  a  mascot. 
She  had  turned  his  luck.  Adorable  girl !  The  best 
he  had  hoped  for  was  to  get  some  description  of  the 
woman  who  had  exchanged  the  hat,  and  that  after 
much  circumlocution  and  adroit  questioning. 


1 64  SWALLOWED  UP 

But  here,  without  an  effort,  he  had  been  given  name, 
address,  every  requisite  detail  to  locate  her.  At  last 
he  had  in  his  hands  a  thread  that  must  lead  direct  to 
the  missing  girl. 

He  called  the  waiter,  and  begged  his  companion  to 
order  something  more,  pressing  her  to  think  of  some 
ambrosial  delicacy  not  on  the  card.  There  was  noth- 
thing  too  much  he  could  do  for  the  Princess. 

Then,  with  the  waiter  suggesting  this  and  that  costly 
bonne-bouche,  he  made  an  excuse  and  hastened  to  the 
telephone  to  call  up  Ranger,  at  his  country-house  in 
Westchester. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LORRY,  they  got  away  with  it." 
Charlie  broke  the  news  without  preamble  as 
soon  as  he  had  Ranger  on  the  wire.     He 
believed  it  better  to  get  his  bad  tidings  over  first,  before 
he  gave  a  hint  of  the  wonderful  new  lead  upon  which 
he  had  stumbled. 

"I  know  that,"  Ranger  returned  with  biting  brev 
ity.  "The  other  side  has  already  furnished  the  in 
formation." 

''You've  heard  from  them  again?" 

"Yes.  A  stick  was  thrown  in  the  dining-room  win 
dow  with  a  note  on  it,  while  we  were  at  dinner." 

"No  trace  of  the  person  who  threw  it?" 

"Oh,  yes ;  one  of  the  gardeners  caught  a  small  boy 
of  the  neighborhood  who  admitted  that  he  did  it,  but 
that  doesn't  get  us  anywhere.  The  boy,  who  was  too 
scared  to  be  anything  but  truthful,  says  a  strange  man 
down  the  road  gave  him  a  dollar  to  throw  the  stick. 
But  he  can't  give  any  adequate  description  of  the  man, 
or  information  that  amounts  to  anything." 

"You  can  bet  on  that,"  said  Charlie.  "They'd  never 
leave  anything  like  that  open.  But  what  did  their  note 
say?" 

"Wait  a  minute,  and  I'll  read  it  to  you."     There 

165 


1 66  SWALLOWED  UP 

was  a  pause,  and  then  Ranger's  voice  resumed : 
"There  is  no  address;  simply  three  lines  of  typewrit 
ing  and  the  usual  circle  and  'X*  signature.  It 
runs : 

"  'You  have  tried  to  double-cross  us,  contrary  to  our 
explicit  instructions ;  but  we  will  give  you  another  chance. 
Deposit  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  bonds  on  Friday 
afternoon,  same  place,  same  time.  Failure  to  comply  or 
any  further  duplicity  on  your  part  will  mean  your  daugh 
ter's  death.'  " 

"Two  hundred  thousand?"  Charlie's  voice  supplied 
the  exclamation  point.  "That's  raising  the  ante  with 
a  vengeance.  Still,  what  else — ?" 

"I  won't  do  it.  I  can't  raise  that  amount  of  money 
on  a  moment's  notice."  Ranger  went  up  in  the  air. 
"You  don't  understand  business.  Here,  I've  just 
thrown  away  one  hundred  thousand  on  your  advice. 

and  now Where  are  you?"  querulously.  "I've 

got  to  talk  to  you  to-night,  at  once.  We  can't  get  any 
where  over  the  wire.  You'd  better  come  out  here  to 
the  house." 

To  Charlie's  quick  ear,  it  seemed  as  if  there  were  a 
slight  shift  in  the  telephone  connection.  He  imagined 
he  could  detect  through  their  conversation  the  sound  of 
some  one  else  breathing. 

"Hold  on  just  a  second,  Lorry.  Have.you  heard 
anything  new  from  Philadelphia?" 

The  question  was  a  code  warning  arranged  between 
them  to  indicate  that  some  one  was  listening  in. 


SWALLOWED  UP  167 

Ranger  gave  an  impatient,  "Humph!"  but  he  did 
not  disregard  the  caution.  "Hold  the  wire,"  gruffly. 

An  interval  of  about  two  minutes  passed,  and  then 
he  spoke  again. 

"You  were  mistaken.  I  looked  up  all  the  exten 
sions,  and  the  only  person  who  could  have  done  any 
eavesdropping  was  Fitch,  the  footman,  who  was  down 
in  the  hall,  and  he  was  twenty  feet  away  from  the  in 
strument  and  half -asleep.  Anyhow,  it's  all  right  now. 
I've  shut  off  all  the  switches  except  this  one,  and  put 
Mary  Lou  on  guard.  Besides,  there's  nothing  to  say, 
that  the  whole  world  couldn't  hear." 

"Isn't  there?"  Charlie  couldn't  keep  the  elated  ring 
out  of  his  voice.  "Well,  let  me  tell  you,  Lorry,  that 
I've  dug  up  a  great  new  clue,  the  most  promising  yet. 
In  fact,  I  don't  think  it's  too  much  to  say  that  I  expect 
to  have  Hope  definitely  located  by  to-morrow.  You're 
going  to  get  back  your  daughter,  I  believe,  Lorry,  and 
your  hundred  thousand  too. 

"No,"  as  Ranger  stormed  him  with  excited  ques 
tions;  "I'm  not  going  to  say  a  word  more  over  the 
telephone.  I  really  ought  not  to  have  said  as  much 
as  this,  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"But,  Charlie;  listen!"  Ranger  entreated.  "You're 
not  going  to  play  a  lone  hand  again,  are  you?  For 
heaven's  sake,  remember  what  happened  to-day. 
Show  a  little  reason ;  at  least  come  here  to  the  house 
and  talk  it  over  with  me.  Then  we  can  decide  whether 
it  isn't  wisest  to  consult  Inspector  Bailey.  If  you've 


1 68  SWALLOWED  UP 

got  such  a  clue  as  you  say,  we  can't  afford  to  lose  It 
through  amateur  bungling." 

Charlie's  mobile  face  hardened  as  he  listened. 
"Sorry,  Lorry,"  he  answered  crisply.  "But  this  re 
quires  quick  action.  I  hate  to  keep  you  in  ignorance, 
but  I've  fooled  around  too  long  as  it  is.  I've  got  to 
be  moving." 

And  deaf  to  Ranger's  expostulations,  he  hung  up  the 
receiver.  He  had  burned  his  bridges  behind  him. 
Unless  he  made  good  this  time,  he  was  done,  discred 
ited,  stamped  as  a  meddling  fool. 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated.  After  all,  wasn't  he 
taking  a  good  deal  on  his  shoulders  ?  It  was  Ranger's 
right  to  direct  and  advise.  He  was  the  one  who  had 
everything  at  stake. 

No !  Charlie  flung  off  his  gathering  scruples.  This 
was  too  good  to  be  spoiled  by  interference  and  the 
heavy-handed  methods  of  the  police.  He  was  the  one 
to  whom  Fate  had  cast  that  thread,  and  he  intended  to 
follow  it  through  to  the  end. 

With  his  old  confident  swagger,  he  made  his  way 
back  to  the  Princess. 

She  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  he  reached  the  table, 
then  glanced  down  at  the  watch  on  her  wrist. 

"It's  been  lovely,  Mr.  Juarez,"  she  said;  "but  I'm 
afraid  I  ought  to  go  now.  They'll  be  waiting  for  me, 
you  know." 

With  everything  she  did,  she  increased  Charlie's 
good  opinion  of  her.  Itching  to  be  off  on  his  quest,  he 


SWALLOWED  UP  169 

had  been  wondering  how  long  courtesy  would  compel 
him  to  sit  there  before  he  could  suggest  leaving. 
Women  never  knew  when  enough  was  enough.  But 
she  had  solved  the  difficulty.  Really,  a  wonderful  girl ! 
She  had  brains,  and  knew  how  to  use  them.  And  at 
the  same  time,  she  was  a  peach  for  looks. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  these  pleasing  reflections, 
the  waiter  laid  the  check  before  him.  It  fully  bore  out 
the  reputation  accorded  to  the  Lone  Hill  Inn  by  Mrs. 
Greenberg;  but  Charlie  would  not  have  quarrelled  if 
it  had  been  twice  as  extortionate.  He  felt  that  he  had 
more  than  got  his  money's  worth.  In  his  large  and 
generous  mood,  he  gave  the  waiter  a  princely  tip. 
Also,  he  remembered  liberally  the  hat-boy,  the  door-man 
and  the  fellow  who  opened  the  door  of  the  flivver. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  garage  they  found  the  tour 
ing-car  repaired,  and  the  party  ready  to  start.  Charlie 
swung  the  Princess  lightly  from  one  car  to  the  other, 
held  her  hand  a  moment  in  parting,  promised  to 
meet  them  all  the  next  Sunday  at  Mrs.  Greenberg's 
for  dinner;  and  then  stood  waving  as  they  drove 
away. 

With  their  departure,  he  shed  his  role  of  the 
moneyed  idler.  Stern  business  demanded  him  now — 
just  how  stern  he  did  not  realize  until  he  started  to 
pay  the  garage-keeper  for  the  use  of  the  flivver,  and 
discovered  that  he  had  only  a  dollar  and  thirty-five 
cents  left  in  his  pocket. 

Habitually  careless  of  finances,  Charlie  had  never 


SWALLOWED  UP 

stopped  to  reckon  the  extent  of  his  spendthrift  prodi 
gality  at  the  Inn;  and  now  to  find  left  to  him  but  a 
single  dollar  bill  and  two  insignificant  silver  coins 
came  as  a  distinct  shock. 

However,  he  did  not  betray  his  dilemma;  his  train 
ing  saved  him.  He  still  had  his  tongue,  and  it  had 
extricated  him  in  more  embarrassing  straits  than  this. 
Glibly,  steadily  he  talked  on  to  the  garage-keeper, 
while  trying  to  decide  on  his  next  move. 

Of  course  he  could  call  up  Ranger  and  settle  the 
matter  in  two  minutes;  but  that  would  only  confirm 
Loring's  present  estimate  of  him  as  a  flighty  incom 
petent.  No;  he  must  trust  to  his  own  wits. 

He  surreptitiously  explored  his  various  pockets  in 
the  faint  hope  of  finding  some  overlooked  currency, 
and  his  fingers  came  in  contact  with  a  familiar  ob 
ject.  Like  a  magic  talisman,  it  restored  his  equa 
nimity  and  courage. 

It  was  an  imitation  meerschaum  pipe,  and  it — or 
rather,  its  fellows — had  for  years  provided  Charlie 
with  what  he  called,  his  "little  graft."  He  always 
carried  with  him  on  his  journeys  an  assortment  of 
these,  retailing  at  about  fifty  cents  apiece,  and  on  his 
arrival  in  a  "hick"  town  would  set  out  with  one  of 
them  in  his  pocket  carefully  wrapped  up  in  an  old  silk 
handkerchief.  In  the  office  of  the  railroad  hotel  or  at 
the  Main  Street  pool  parlor,  he  would  mark  down 
his  prospective  victim — sometimes  a  lounging  patron, 
sometimes  the  proprietor  of  the  place — and  strike  up 


SWALLOWED  UP  171 

a  conversation,  mesmerizing  him  with  his  gift  of 
language.  Then  at  the  psychological  moment  he 
would  draw  out  his  pipe,  and  handling  it  as  tenderly 
as  if  it  were  some  rare  treasure,  would  offer  it  for 
inspection. 

"My  father  put  in  thirty-two  years  coloring  that 
bowl,"  he  would  affirm,  pensively  reminiscent,  "brought 
it  with  him  when  he  came  over  from  the  other  side,  and 
gave  it  to  me  on  his  death-bed.  I  never  thought 
that  anything  could  make  me  part  with  it,  but  old 
Hard  Luck  is  some  persuader,  and  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  let  it  go.  Of  course,  if  I  had  time  to  turn 
a  deal,  I  could  easy  get  as  high  as  four  or  five  hundred 
for  a  pipe  like  that;  but  these  bum  lungs  of  mine  tell 
me  that  I  can't  afford  to  lose  any  time  getting  to 
Arizona."  Here  a  hollow  cough  would  shake  his 
whole  frame. 

"So,  if  you  know  of  anybody,  friend,  that's  willing 
to  come  across  with  the  twenty-five  I  need  to  make 
up  my  fare  to  Phoenix,  the  meerschaum's  theirs." 

The  listener  generally  fell  for  the  bargain,  and  by 
the  time  the  fraud  was  discovered  and  the  constable 
set  on  his  trail,  Charlie  would  be  many  miles  away. 

Of  course,  with  the  garage-keeper,  he  had  to  vary 
his  story,  and  adapt  it  to  his  character  as  can 
vasser  for  "put-it-together-yourself  furniture;  but 
he  did  it  so  effectively,  that  when  he  closed  the  trans 
action,  he  had  paid  all  charges  against  him  and  had 
eleven  dollars  to  boot. 


1 72  SWALLOWED  UP 

"The  poor  fish,"  muttered  Charlie  as  he  rode  away. 
"He  doesn't  know  it,  but  I'm  only  accepting  a  loan 
from  him.  I'll  have  Lorry  straighten  it  out  as  soon 
as  I  get  back.  Funny  about  it;  I  feel  almost  as  if 
I'd  been  doing  something  dishonest.  By  George,  it's 
time  for  a  man  of  my  age  to  quit  this  fool  roaming 
about  the  country,  and  begin  to  think  of  settling 
down. 

"Mr.  Juarez,"  he  repeated  thoughtfully.  "By 
Jiminy !  It  sounded  like  music  when  she  said  it." 

Then  resolutely  putting  out  of  his  mind  the  Prin 
cess,  the  garage-keeper,  Ranger,  everything  that  inter 
fered  with  his  study  of  the  problem  before  him,  he 
raced  toward  Long  Island. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  just  about  the  time  that  Charlie  had  gained 
from  the  Princess  the  clue  which  pointed  to  the 
Sanitarium,  that  Hope  and  Kelsey  in  Bristow's 
high-powered   car  went   crashing  through  the  hedge 
and  sweeping  down  the  road. 

Kelsey's  plea  to  drive  like  the  devil  had  been  un 
necessary.  She  was  getting  every  ounce  of  speed 
out  of  the  motor  as  it  was. 

Their  plan  had  been  to  drive  west,  change  the  car 
at  some  garage,  first  disabling  it,  and  then  proceed 
in  another  less  conspicuous  one  to  New  York. 

But  Kelsey  noticed  that  she  had  headed  east,  which 
was  well  as  it  would  lead  the  pursuit  in  that  direction. 
Half  a  mile  beyond  the  hospital,  though,  she  turned 
into  a  narrow  lane,  and  he  soon  saw  that  by  circuitous 
routes  she  was  now  making  her  way  west. 

Some  of  the  ways  she  took  were  little  more  than 
wheel-tracks  through  the  scrub  oak,  and  more  than 
once  he  was  afraid  she  had  run  them  into  a  cul-de-sac; 
but  always  there  appeared  some  unexpected  bend  or 
cross-road  into  which  she  unerringly  turned  and 
extricated  them. 

He  recognized  that  she  had  spoken  the  simple  truth 
when  she  had  said  the  day  before  that  she  knew 
the  Island  like  a  book. 

i73 


174  SWALLOWED  UP 

It  was  still  broad  daylight,  their  path  streaked  with 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Kelsey  wished  that  it 
were  October  instead  of  June  when,  encompassed  in 
the  shielding,  thick,  autumnal  dusk,  they  could  have 
pursued  a  far  more  direct  course. 

Neither  of  them  spoke.  Crouched  over  the  wheel, 
Hope  drove — a  valkyrie  of  a  driver,  and  for  the 
time  nothing  more,  every  fiber  of  her  bent  on  that. 
And  in  the  first  ecstasy  of  escape,  Kelsey  gave  no 
thought  to  the  dangers  still  before  them.  His  pulses 
beat  to  the  high  measure  of  freedom.  There  was 
intoxication  in  this  wild,  onward  rush.  Action  at 
last,  after  days  of  stagnation!  The  sense  of  power 
thrilled  through  him.  He  had  matched  his  strength 
and  his  wits  against  Bristow,  and  had  won — he  and 
she  together. 

How  could  they  fail?  He  looked  at  her,  and  felt 
that  he  saw  her  for  the  first  time.  Her  face  was  set 
straight  before  her;  the  wind  and  excitement  had 
whipped  the  color  to  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes,  dilated  and 
brilliant  were  on  the  road  before  her,  noting,  re 
membering,  calculating  distances,  tracing  with  the  car 
the  devious  ways  of  the  map  in  her  brain.  He  sensed 
that  she  too  was  exalte;  but  the  flame  of  her  spirit 
was  sternly  bound  by  will  and  purpose. 

Twilight  was  falling  now.  As  they  whirled  on, 
following  tangled  and  tortuous  by-paths,  he  could  no 
longer  see  ahead  of  him.  The  gray,  creeping  dusk 
was  blotting  out  space,  and  time  with  it.  The  woods 


SWALLOWED  .UP  175 

that  streamed  by  them  were  dim  masses  of  shadow, 
formless  and  strangely  unsubstantial.  The  fancy 
came  to  him  that  the  earth  was  no  longer  beneath  them, 
that  they  were  flying  through  cloud-banks. 

In  the  faint  chill  of  the  night  wind  blowing  in  from 
the  sea,  with  the  blurring  dimness  about  them,  his 
first  keen,  sharp  elation  was  gradually  dulled.  The 
tingle  of  victory  was  dying  within  him.  There  was  no 
immediate  sign  that  they  were  followed,  and  yet 
there  grew  on  him  momentarily  an  ominous,  sub 
conscious  sense  of  pursuit. 

A  vivid  picture  of  what  must  be  happening  at  the 
hospital  rose  before  him. 

Morton  would  be  working  like  mad  to  revive  Bris- 
tow.  They  would  be  pouring  black  coffee  down  his 
throat  and  walking  him  up  and  down  the  floor. 
Anita  Copley,  the  embers  of  her  murky  eyes  strik 
ing  hard  points  of  fire,  would  be  directing,  sending 
telephone  messages,  her  first  stormy  panic  congealed 
to  a  steel-like  efficiency.  The  old  alderman,  drawn 
from  his  seclusion  by  the  emergency,  would  be  close 
at  hand,  seated  with  his  great,  bony  knuckles  clasped 
over  the  head  of  his  stick,  bowed  vulture-like  above 
it,  deadly  executive.  The  systematic  order  of  the  in 
stitution  would  be  disorganized,  the  nurses  whispering 
in  groups  heedless  of  their  patients,  attendants  run 
ning  about  in  confusion,  car-loads  of  searchers  dash 
ing  away  from  the  door. 

Kelsey  knew  that  Hope  too  must  be  thinking  of 


176  SWALLOWED  UP 

the  craft  and  energy  that  would  be  employed  in  their 
pursuit,  and  his  admiration  mounted  for  this  slender 
girl,  who  under  such  tension  continued  to  drive  with 
all  the  ease  and  insouciance  of  a  Ralph  di  Palma. 

With  a  twist  of  the  wheel  she  brought  them  out  of 
a  lane  they  had  been  following  through  the  scrub- 
oak  onto  a  more  traveled  highway,  and  ahead  of  them 
he  saw  the  lights  of  a  garage.  She  slowed  down  and 
stopped,  rubbing  her  numb  hands. 

"Run  ahead  and  reconnoiter,"  she  said,  "and  I  will 
get  ready  to  put  the  carburetor  out  of  commission, 
if  the  coast  is  clear.  Then,  with  another  car,  we  will 
make  a  detour  around  that  bend  and  strike  into  the 
main  road." 

He  was  already  out  of  the  car,  and  starting  on  his 
way. 

Two  or  three  minutes  passed  and  then  he  came 
running  back.  "There's  a  car  there,"  he  panted. 
"There  were  men  in  it — Bristow's  chauffeur.  The 
garage  men  were  gathered  around  it.  We  haven't  a 
second  to  lose.  They're  after  us." 

She  jumped  into  her  seat,  and  slewed  the  machine 
sharply  around.  They  whizzed  down  the  road  and 
back  into  the  scrub-oak  again.  He  heard  shouts  be 
hind  them,  and  the  loud  honking  of  a  horn,  with  an 
answering  honk-honk  to  the  right  and  left — the  baying 
of  the  pack. 

Kelsey  felt  not  the  bitterness  of  defeat,  but  of  re- 


SWALLOWED  UP  177 

volt.  He  had  hoped  from  the  beginning  that  if  they 
were  taken  it  might  be  by  some  officer  of  the  law. 
They  could  then  make  such  a  scene,  their  story  would 
be  so  sensational,  that  it  would  force  attention.  Hope 
might  even  gain  consent  to  speak  to  her  father  over 
the  telephone.  They  would  all  know  her  photographs 
by  heart.  The  resemblance  to  the  lost  girl  could  not 
fail  to  strike  them,  and.  any  constable  or  deputy 
sheriff  would  take  chances  on  earning  that  one  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  reward,  no  matter  how  wild  a 
gamble  it  might  seem. 

But  Anita  Copley  had  evidently  done  her  best  to 
combat  that  possibility.  It  was  probable  that  she  had 
limited  the  pursuit  to  the  attendants  of  the  hospital. 
That  would  mean  at  most  half  a  dozen  cars  out  after 
them,  and  all  those  men,  including  Higgins's  chauffeur 
and  Bristow's,  knew  the  island  as  thoroughly  as  Hope 
did. 

He  had  once  or  twice  thought  of  stopping  at  some 
farm-house  and  requesting  the  use  of  the  telephone; 
but  he  knew  that  the  news  would  spread  like  wild 
fire,  and  what  householder  would  admit  them,  two 
young  vigorous  maniacs  who  had  just  made  a  desperate 
escape  from  an  asylum. 

And  now  what  earthly  chance  had  they?  Hope 
might  continue  to  weave  through  these  by-roads  and 
twist  and  turn  on  their  trail  like  a  fox ;  but  the  hunters 
were  pressing  them  hard. 


1 7  8-  SWALLOWED  UP 

He  looked  back,  and  as  he  did  so,  a  car  shot  out 
from  an  intersecting  road  and  took  after  them.  It 
gained  steadily. 

"They've  got  us  pocketed,"  he  said. 

"Not  yet,"     The  wind  blew  back  her  words  to  him. 

They  had  come  to  a  point  where  the  road  forked 
in  three  directions.  She  turned  into  the  first  one. 

"We'll  try  for  our  old  house  now,"  she  said.  "We 
can  get  to  the  back  entrance  by  a  short  cut  through 
tEe  woods  just  beyond  here." 

"Our  old  house?"  He  had  not  heard  of  it  before. 
"But  the  car.  They  will  track  us  by  that,  no  matter 
where  we  go." 

"Let  them,"  she  said  briefly,  and  with  what  struck 
him  as  remarkable  sang  froid  under  the  circumstances. 

He  looked  back  again. 

"They've  followed,"  he  said.     "They're  on  us  now." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth,  when 
there  was  a  rush  of  wheels,  the  purr  of  an  engine, 
and  the  pursuing  car  shot  by  them  to  draw  up  ahead 
in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

There  was  nothing  for  them  but  to  stop.  They 
could  not  hope  to  pass  in  that  narrow  lane,  and  it  was 
equally  impossible  to  turn. 

As  the  car  passed  them,  Kelsey  had  made  out  that 
there  were  two  men  in  it.  One  of  them  leaped  over 
the  side,  and  came  running  back. 

Kelsey  flexed  his  muscles  and  waited.  The  man 
hurrying  toward  him  was  a  big  burly  fellow,  but  Kel- 


SWALLOWED  UP  179 

sey  was  no  lightweight  himself.  Armed  or  unarmed, 
he  was  ready  for  him,  and  then  he'd  take  on  the  other, 
both  at  the  same  time  for  that  matter. 

The  man  held  something  in  his  hand,  but  it  was 
not  a  gun. 

"That  you,  Dr.  Bristow?"  he  said,  coming  close  and 
speaking  in  a  harsh,  husky  whisper.  He  halted,  his 
jaw  falling.  "What,  the—!" 

Hope  leaned  forward.  "I  am  Miss  Copley,"  she 
said.  "I  wasn't  quite  sure  of  the  Doctor's  directions." 

"Oh?  Miss  Copley ?•"  His  truculence  gave  way  to 
relief.  He  thrust  a  bulky  envelope  into  her  hand 
without  a  word,  and  turned  back  to  his  own  car. 

"Better  let  us  get  a  piece  ahead,"  he  muttered  over 
his  shoulder.  "I've  got  an  idea  we're  being  trailed. 
We  just  shook  off  a  couple  of  other  cars." 

He  was  gone.  The  car  in  front  started  and  whizzed 
on.  There  was  no  time  for  question  or  comment, 
no  time  to  express  wonder  at  this  strange  incident. 
Hope  had  thrown  the  envelope  into  Kelsey's  lap,  and 
was  once  more  driving  at  full  speed. 

The  Merrick  Road,  wide  and  smooth,  opened  out  be 
fore  them,  and  many  automobiles'  were  on  it. 

"We  have  to  cross  here,"  she  murmured.  "Pray 
that  our  luck  holds." 

Kelsey  sat  taut  while  she  drove  down  the  highway 
for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  Motors  passed  them, 
going  in  both  directions,  but  no  one  intercepted  them. 
Then  she  turned  off,  and  soon  they  were  in  a  tree- 


i8o  SWALLOWED  UP 

lined  lane,  where  the  ground  was  rougher  than  any 
over  which  they  had  passed. 

They  seemed  to  have  thrown  off  the  pursuit.  The 
fog  was  growing  denser.  There  was  no  sound  but  the 
bumping  and  creaking  of  the  car  over  the  ruts.  Then 
the  stillness  was  broken  by  the  staccato  coughing  of  a 
motor-cycle  somewhere  before  them. 

It  grew  louder.  It  was  coming  toward  them. 
Hopelessness  pierced  their  rising  hope.  No  turning 
here !  This  flat  feeling  of  disenchantment.  Their  adven 
ture  was  over.  And  yet,  if  it  were  only  one  man  scout 
ing  for  them,  Kelsey  believed  he  might  manage  him. 

The  explosive  racket  drummed  on  their  ears.  A  head 
light  rayed  yellow  through  the  fog.  Panic  seized  Hope. 
In  the  open,  with  a  choice  of  branching  roads  where  she 
could  twist  and  double,  her  nerve  held;  but  here,  cor 
nered  at  last,  she  yielded  to  an  unreasoning  impulse. 

Before  Kelsey  realized  her  intention,  she  jerked  the 
car  to  the  left  in  so  short  a  turn  that  they  made  it  on 
two  wheels. 

He  saw  an  open  space  before  him.  A  tall  stump 
seemed  to  rise  out  of  the  ground.  She  swerved  fran 
tically  to  avoid  it,  and  they  crashed  into  a  tree.  Black 
ness!  He  knew  no  more. 

Hope  thrown  clear  of  the  wreck  struggled  for  her 
breath,  and  then  rose  uncertainly  to  her  knees.  A  man 
was  bending  over  her. 

"You  hurt?"  She  could  dimly  see  his  white,  fright 
ened  face.  The  motor-cycle  stood  at  the  side  of  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  181 

road.  "Want  to  get  up?  That's  good."  His  hand 
was  under  her  elbow,  helping  her  to  rise. 

She  stared  blankly  at  the  crumpled  bulk  of  the  over 
turned  car,  and  then  ran  toward  it,  stifling  a  scream. 

"Oh,  where,  where — ?"  she  cried,  and  stopped. 

Kelsey  lay  almost  at  her  feet,  motionless,  half  under 
the  tonneau. 

The  man  caught  him  by  the  shoulders  and  dragged 
him  out.  Hope  dropped  down  beside  him,  moaning 
faintly.  She  lifted  his  head  and  it  fell  limply  against 
her  arm.  The  blood  was  running  down  over  his 
temple,  clotting  his  hair. 

Juarez  Charlie  was  running  practiced  hands  over 
his  body.  "He's  breathing,"  he  said,  but  shook  his 
head.  "Looks  to  me  like  a  fractured  skull." 

She  forgot  everything,  their  plight,  the  probability 
that  this  stranger  was  sent  to  capture  them;  and  cried 
out,  imploring  him. 

"Oh,  go!     Go  for  a  doctor  at  once." 

"I'll  have  one  here  in  no  time."  He  started  for  his 
motor-cycle.  "Sure  you're  all  right?" 

She  thrust  out  her  palms  as  if  to  push  him  on  his 
way. 

"Oh,  don't  mind  me.     Hurry!     Hurry!" 

He  jumped  to  the  saddle,  caught  his  spark  almost 
immediately,  and  the  jerky  crackle  of  his  machine  was 
soon  lost  in  the  distance. 

Hope  made  a  pad  of  her  own  handkerchief,  and 
taking  Kelsey's  from  his  pocket  folded  a  bandage  of 


1 82  SWALLOWED  UP 

it  and  bound  it  about  his  forehead.  Then  with  his 
head  on  her  lap,  she  waited,  bending  over  him. 

At  last  he  stirred,  there  was  a  flutter  of  his  lids,  and 
he  opened  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  you're  alive!"  she  cried.  He  looked  at  her 
dazedly  for  a  second,  and  then  tried  to  sit  up. 

"What's  happened?"  he  asked. 

"The  car  turned  over,  and  you  were  unconscious." 

"And  yon?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.     I  was  only  shaken  up  a  little." 

His  eyes  veered  to  the  ruin  of  the  car.  "Good 
heavens !  They've  got  us  sure.  To  think  that  it's  all 
ended  so." 

"No!"  vehemently.  "Not  if  you  can  walk.  The 
house  is  near.  It's  an  old  place  that  my  father  owns," 
she  explained.  "I  spent  every  summer  here  when  I 
was  a  child.  It's  empty  now;  the  old  caretaker  died 
about  six  months  ago." 

He  got  up  and  took  a  staggering  step  or  two. 

"Lean  on  me,"  she  said  quickly. 

"I'll  have  to,  I'm  afraid." 

A  hedge  loomed  ahead  of  them.  With  some  dif 
ficulty  she  guided  him  to  a  gap  in  it,  and  they  slipped 
through.  The  house  was  only  a  short  distance  away. 

"Wait!"  she  ran  toward  it,  and  circled  to  the  rear, 
trying  the  windows  as  she  went.  He  followed  more 
slowly. 

"Here's  a  broken  pane !"  she  called  cautiously. 

Joining  her,  he  slipped  his  fingers  through  the  jag 
ged  hole,  unlocked  the  sash  and  pushed  it  up. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WITHOUT  waiting  for  Kelsey's  rather  shaky 
assistance,  Hope  clambered  through  the 
window.  Following  more  slowly,  he  closed 
and  relocked  it. 

The  air  of  the  room  was  oppressively  stale,  the  flat, 
lifeless  atmosphere  of  an  uninhabited  house. 

Swaying  on  his  feet,  Kelsey  reached  out  for  some 
support  and  clutched  a  table.  He  sat  down  on  it 
heavily.  His  ears  were  singing,  his  eyes  blind.  The 
world  was  slipping  away  from  him  again. 

"George!"  Hope's  voice  was  quick  with  anxiety. 
She  put  her  arm  about  his  shoulders,  and  shook  him 
slightly.  "George!  What  is  it?" 

That  "George"  was  a  spur  to  his  ebbing  will.  He 
pulled  himself  together  with  a  tremendous  effort. 
There  was  no  time  for  him  to  sit  here  nursing  his  con 
fused,  dizzy  head.  She  needed  him. 

She  was  untying  the  bandage,  and  he  felt  her  light, 
cool  fingers  on  his  forehead.  It  was  deliciously  sooth 
ing.  He  wanted  to  put  his  head  down  on  her 
shoulder,  and  stay  so.  But  he  dared  not  yield  to 
magic  now. 

She  moved  swiftly  away  from  him,  and  he  heard 

the  sound  of  running  water  across  the  room.     "I'm 

183 


1 84  SWALLOWED  UP 

going  to  wet  this  handkerchief,"  she  said,  "here  at 
the  sink.  This  is  the  kitchen." 

"Wait!"  He  got  up  and  made  his  zig-zag  way 
toward  her.  "Let  me  get  my  head  under  the  faucet." 

The  cold  water  was  a  marvelous  restorative,  re 
freshing  and  stimulating  him. 

"Is  the  cut  still  bleeding?"  she  asked. 

"No ;  the  blood  has  clotted  on  it.  It's  only  a  scratch 
anyway.  Ah!"  He  inhaled  deeply  and  stood  upright, 
brushing  the  water  from  his  face.  "I'm  all  right 
now." 

"But  it's  dangerous  drawing  water,"  he  said. 
"They'll  know  we've  been  here." 

"Let  it  run  a  little,"  she  suggested.  "It  will  look 
as  if  it  had  been  left  so  a  long  time." 

"That's  so,"  he  said.  "And  now  we've  got  to  plan 
our  next  move.  You  know  this  place,  the  house  and 
grounds.  They'll  be  here  soon,  and  they're  bound  to 
track  us  to  the  house.  We've  got  to  get  out.  Is 
there  any  way  we  can  throw  them  off?" 

"We  stay  right  here.  They  won't  find  us."  There 
was  an  irrepressible,  mischievous  bubble  in  her  low 
laughter.  "Leave  that  to  me.  I  know  every  inch  of 
this  place.  Give  me  your  matches." 

"You  mustn't  strike  a  match  here." 

"Not  here  of  course.  But  in  the  closet  there. 
Quick — give  them  to  me.  Oh,  don't  be  afraid.  I 
shall  close  the  door." 

Here,  as  on  their  wild  drive,  she  had  taken  the  initi- 


SWALLOWED  UP  185 

ative,  and  still  protesting,  he  reluctantly  gave  her  the 
box. 

She  laughed  again;  and  he  heard  a  door  open  and 
close.  A  moment  and  she  came  back. 

"Good  hunting,"  she  said.  "I  went  after  provisions 
and  found  a  box  of  crackers  and  some  jam.  My  father 
comes  down  here  occasionally  for  the  duck-shooting, 
and  I  thought  something  might  have  been  left. 

"Now  come  with  me."  She  slipped  her  free  hand 
in  his,  and  led  him  through  what  seemed  to  be  a  dining- 
room  into  the  hall,  and  then  up  a  flight  of  stairs. 

Kelsey  stopped.  "What's  your  idea?"  he  asked. 
"To  hide  in  the  attic?  That  won't  do.  They'll  make 
for  that  the  first  thing.  The  house  is  impossible; 
there  won't  be  a  crevice  or  a  cranny  overlooked.  Out 
side,  we  may  have  a  ghost  of  a  chance.  The  woods 
will  be  well  beaten  of  course.  But  we  might  hide  out 
on  them.  With  good  luck  we  might  reach  the  coast 
and  secure  a  boat.  If  I'm  not  at  home  in  a  car,  I  am 
on  the  water." 

"We're  not  going  to  the  attic.  Come  on."  She 
tugged  at  his  sleeve.  "Don't  stand  there  and  argue.  I 
know  what  I'm  doing." 

Her  certainty,  the  mysterious  elation  in  her  tone, 
her  air  of  leading  him  to  a  new  adventure  overbore 
his  judgment.  And  after  all,  whatever  they  did  was 
a  hazard.  Success  or  failure  lay  in  the  toss  of  a  coin. 

He  yielded  the  point,  and  followed  her  without  fur 
ther  remonstrance  into  a  long,  low-ceiled  chamber 


1 86  SWALLOWED  UP 

which  he  assumed  to  be  directly  above  the  dining-room. 

"Now  you  can  rest  for  a  moment,"  she  said,  guiding 
him  to  a  chair.  "Sit  down.  And,  please,  the  matches 
again.  Oh,"  anticipating  his  objection,  "there  will  be 
no  light  that  can  be  seen  from  the  outside." 

His  eyes  accustomed  to  the  darkness  made  out  a 
great  stone  fireplace  at  one  side  of  the  room.  She 
passed  it,  a  light,  gliding  shadow  among  shadows,  and 
stood  before  the  wall  beyond,  in  front  of  an  old- 
fashioned  cupboard  about  two  feet  above  the  floor. 
She  stepped  into  it.  There  was  a  tiny  spurt  of  light 
as  she  struck  a  match. 

By  it,  he  saw  her  kneeling  figure  close  to  the  dark 
wood  which  lined  the  back  of  the  closet.  Her  hand 
strangely  white  in  the  brief  yellow  flare  focused  his 
eyes  with  its  sure,  definite  movements.  One  finger 
outstretched,  she  was  tapping  the  boards  rapidly. 
Counting,  was  she? 

The  match  went  out.  He  heard  her  jump  down, 
and  she  came  toward  him  in  an  airy  rush.  Her  re 
surgent  vitality  brought  life  to  the  close,  dust-laden 
room,  and  in  his  fancy  she  filled  it  with  light  and  color. 

"You  think  we're  caught  in  a  trap  like  poor  little 
mice,  but  we're  not."  She  beat  her  hands  lightly  on 
his  chest,  her  feet  dancing. 

"Let  me  tell  you,"  she  forced  herself  to  sober  co 
herency.  "This  is  an  old,  old  house,  built  in  the  early 
days  of  the  Colonies,  when  people  had  to  be  constantly 


SWALLOWED  UP  187 

on  guard  against  the  Indians  and  provide  ways  of  es 
cape.  Can  you  make  out  that  big,  old-time  chimney 
where  the  fireplace  is?  It  runs  up  from  the  cellar 
and  there  is  a  fireplace  just  like  this  in  the  dining- 
room  below,  and  another  back  of  it  in  the  kitchen 
which  is  in  an  ell  or  wing  not  quite  so  high  as  the 
main  house. 

"The  chimney  tapers  gradually  as  it  goes  up,  and 
so  is  narrower  on  this  floor  than  on  the  one  beneath. 
That  leaves  a  space  on  either  side  of  it  up  here,  and 
the  colonists  utilized  this  as  a  hidden  passage  by 
which  they  could  get  to  the  rear  of  the  house  if  the 
front  was  taken,  or  vice-versa.  The  entrance  on  this 
side  is  through  that  cupboard  where  you  saw  me.  All 
you  have  to  do  is  to  slide  back  two  of  the  boards,  and 
you  are  inside.  Then  by  passing  around  the  chimney, 
you  can  get  out  through  a  similar  opening  into  the 
attic  of  the  kitchen  wing.  Once  there,  you  must  crawl 
across  the  rafters,  drop  through  a  scuttle  into  a  small 
room  over  the  kitchen,  and  from  this  down  a  stair 
way  to  the  woodshed  outside.  But  it  will  not  be 
necessary  for  us  to  do  all  that.  We  shall  simply  hide 
in  the  passage-way  until  the  search  is  over." 

"Great  Scott!"  He  wanted  to  shout.  It  seemed 
extraordinary  banal  to  hear  himself  asking:  "And  can 
we  stand  upright  in  it,  and  breathe?" 

"Oh,  yes;  it's  pitchy  of  course,  but  air  gets  in 
through  the  crevices." 


1 88  SWALLOWED  UP 

She  took  up  the  crackers  and  jam  from  a  chair,  and 
going  back  to  the  cupboard,  stowed  them  in  the  aper 
ture. 

"Now  I'll  get  some  pillows  to  sit  on.  We'll  be 
luxurious." 

She  gathered  them  up  from  a  couch,  and  stuffed 
them  also  into  the  passage. 

A  thought  pricked  the  bubble  of  Iws  exultation. 
"But  surely  this  is  known  all  over  the  neighborhood?" 

"No,"  positively.  "My  father  showed  it  to  me 
when  I  was  about  twelve  years  old.  I  had  never 
heard  a  whisper  of  it  before;  and  I  would  have,  if  it 
had  been  gossiped  about.  The  servants  would  have 
been  full  of  it." 

"If  that's  true,"  he  drew  himself  up,  "we've  got  a 
fighting  chance." 

"Listen!"  she  interrupted  sibilantly. 

Through  the  dead  quiet  of  the  night  they  heard 
the  sound  of  a  motor — more  than  one.  They  went 
to  the  window.  Along  the  rough  road  they  had  come 
they  saw  headlights  apfloaching,  moons  of  orange 
through  the  fog.  There  was  a  stop  where  their  car 
had  crashed.  Men  piled  out,  and  with  electric  torches 
followed  their  foot-steps  through  the  hedge  and  to 
the  house.  They  heard  the  sound  of  voices  below. 
A  narrow  shaft  of  light  was  upflung  to  the  window, 
and  they  cowered  back. 

"Hurry!     We  must  hide  now,"  she  urged. 

He  stepped  up  into  the  cupboard,  and  crept  into  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  189 

passage  behind.  She  closed  the  cupboard-door  and 
slipped  the  concealing  panel  into  place. 

"Sit  down  on  the  pillows,  and  we  shan't  make  a 
sound,"  she  ordered. 

Heavy  thuds  on  a  door  below,  reverberating 
through  the  house.  Then  the  tramp  of  feet  and  the 
slamming  of  other  doors.  Men  were  on  the  stairs 
now.  Passing  the  chamber  door,  they  went  on  up 
another  flight  to  the  attic.  They  made  racket  enough 
there.  Furniture  was  flung  about;  there  was  the  roll 
of  heavy  pieces  on  castors,  the  scrape  and  thump  of 
trunks  and  boxes  moved  with  difficulty. 

They  came  down  at  last  to  begin  their  search  of 
this  floor,  and  now  they  were  in  the  room.  The  cup 
board  doors  were  jerked  open;  threads  of  light 
streaked  through  the  cracks  of  the  panel.  Kelsey 
and  Hope  sat  motionless,  hardly  daring  to  breathe, 
her  hand  clasped  tight  in  his. 

"Well,  they're  not  in  the  attic  nor  yet  on  this  floor : 
we  know  that,"  said  a  voice.  "And  Kelly  and  Weeks 
don't  seem  to  have  had  any  better  luck  downstairs 
and  in  the  cellar." 

"I  never  did  believe  they  were  in  the  house," 
grumbled  another  voice.  "They'd  have  been  fools, 
with  that  patch  of  woods  before  'em." 

"Let's  go.  We  haven't  overlooked  a  rat-hole," 
said  the  first. 

The  sound  of  their  voices  grew  fainter.  Then  they 
heard  other  voices  raised  in  argument  in  the  hall  down- 


1 90  SWALLOWED  UP 

stairs.  There  was  more  movement,  and  finally  the 
banging  of  the  front  door.  The  men  were  gone. 

Hope  and  Kelsey  waited  in  that  unearthly  silence 
for  a  long  time;  some  one  might  have  been  left  be 
hind,  might  even  be  in  the  room. 

At  last,  careful  not  to  make  the  least  noise,  she 
slid  back  the  panel  and  looked  out. 

"They've  left,"  she  whispered  ecstatically. 

"Sh-h!"  he  whispered  back,  his  mouth  close  to  her 
ear. 

Again  they  waited  and  listened. 

"There's  no  one  about,"  she  said  finally.  "But  it's 
safer  to  stay  here  for  the  present."  She  leaned  nearer 
solicitously.  "How  is  your  poor  head?" 

"M-m.  Not  so  good.  But  it  will  be  all  right  in 
the  morning." 

"You're  hungry.  It  aches  because  you  are  hungry. 
I  am,  too." 

She  made  small,  rustling  noises  opening  the  cracker 
box. 

"Good  thing  I  brought  a  knife.  I'm  a  wise,  old 
campaigner.  I've  camped  out  too  many  times  not  to 
remember  that  a  kingdom  was  lost  for  want  of  a  knife." 

"Horseshoe  nail,"  he  corrected. 

She  stifled  her  laughter.  "Knife.  But  have  it 
your  own  way.  Oh,  it's  hard  to  spread  jam  in  the 
dark.  Give  me  your  hand." 

Their  fingers  touched,  and  she  laid  a  cracker  in 
his  palm. 


SWALLOWED  UP  191 

"I've  never  tasted  anything  quite  so  good,"  he 
affirmed. 

"Nor  I.  The  crackers  are  musty,  but  it  improves 
the  flavor." 

"You  were  wonderful  to  think  of  them.  But  you 
always  are — the  most  wonderful —  His  voice 

broke.  He  caught  her,  and  held  her  to  him  crush- 
ingly.  "You're  safe — still  safe.  What  a  night!" 
He  buried  his  face  in  her  hair.  "But  they  haven't 
got  you.  If  they  do,  they'll  have  to  kill  me  first." 

Her  arms  were  about  his  neck,  her  cheek  against 
his. 

"I  almost  killed  you  with  that  car,"  she  said.  "If 
I  had,  I  shouldn't  have  cared  if  they  had  taken  me." 
She  ran  her  light  fingers  over  his  eyes.  "His  dear, 
broken  head,"  she  said  tenderly. 

"Oh !"  She  drew  back  with  a  sudden  recollection. 
"I  forgot ;  we  both  forgot.  That  envelope  those  men 
gave  us!" 

"By  George!  Have  I  got  it?"  Kelsey  thrust  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  brought  it  out.  "It's  thick, 
whatever  it  is — feels  like  papers.  It  must  be  for 
Bristow.  Clever  of  you  to  play  Anita  Copley.  They 
gave  it  to  you  without  question.  Close  the  panel, 
and  we'll  strike  a  match  and  see  what  it  is." 

"Matches  smell.     If  they  should  come  back— 

"There's  air  here.  The  smell  will  be  gone  in  a 
minute." 

Her  curiosity  was  as  great  as  his.     She  struck  the 


1 92  SWALLOWED  UP 

match.  The  light  made  them  blink.  He  ripped  open 
the  envelope. 

"Liberty  bonds!"  with  a  gasp.     "A  bunch  of  them." 

"Liberty  bonds?"  she  repeated.  "And  for  Bristow. 
But  why  were  they  so  furtive  about  it — that  lonely 
road — their  fear  of  being  trailed?  I  believe  they're 
stolen." 

"More  than  likely.  Let's  count  them.  Strike  an 
other  match." 

She  did  so,  and  held  it  until  it  burned  her  fingers. 

"An  even  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  he  said  in  an 
awed  tone.  "Ten  bonds  of  ten  thousand  apiece." 

"A  hundred  thous !"  She  clutched  his 

shoulder.  "Why,  that's  my  ransom.  It  must  be  it. 
Oh,  I'm  free,  free!  You  can  go  to  Bristow  now, 
and  give  it  to  him." 

"My  dear!  My  dear!"  He  drew  her  close  with 
protecting  arms.  "If  I  went  to  him  with  two  hundred 
thousand,  he  wouldn't  let  either  of  us  go.  He  wouldn't 
dare." 

"That's  true,"  she  murmured.  He  felt  her  droop 
against  him.  "I  thought  for  a  moment,  we  were  out 
of  all  our  troubles." 

"We're  going  to  get  out  of  them,"  he  said  stoutly. 
"They'll  be  searching  the  woods  for  a  while  yet,  but 
they'll  get  tired  of  that.  Then  will  be  our  chance  to 
slip  out.  Are  you  sleepy?" 

"No;  I'm  too  excited." 

"Well,  I  am.     No  sleep  for  two  nights,  and  this 


SWALLOWED  UP  193 

crack  over  my  head.  Here,  take  my  watch,  and  wake 
me  at  the  end  of  an  hour.  Then  you  must  sleep  for 
the  same  time.  We'll  need  clear  heads  and  'all  our 
strength,  once  we  get  started." 

"Let  me  see  the  time."  She  struck  another  match. 
"It's  just  eleven  o'clock.  I'll  wake  you  promptly  at 
twelve.  Now  go  by-by." 

Kelsey  stretched  himself  out,  and  she  slipped  a 
cushion  under  his  head.  He  was  hardly  conscious  of 
it.  A  deadly  exhaustion  had  come  over  him.  His 
lids  were  like  weights  of  iron  pressing  down  his  eyes. 
Almost  at  once  he  was  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XX 

HOPE  sat  in  the  cramped  dark  space  beside 
the  sleeper,  her  chin  on  her  drawn-up  knees, 
her  hands  clasped  about  them,  listening  to 
his  slow,  regular  breathing. 

Her  thoughts  drifted  back  over  their  brief  associ 
ation.  How  unerringly  she  had  been  drawn  to  him! 
How  quick  had  been  his  understanding,  how  sympa 
thetic,  how  clever  his  assistance,  how  strong,  how  cap 
able,  how  tender. 

The  paradox  of  her  position  struck  her.  Here  she 
was,  a  fugitive,  hunted  like  a  thief,  driven  to  a  pre 
carious  refuge,  separated  from  friends,  family,  home, 
and  not  knowing  whether  she  would  ever  see  any  of 
them  again,  dangers  all  about  her,  her  only  prop  a 
stranger  whose  very  name  had  been  unknown  to  her  a 
month  before.  And  yet  at  this  moment  life  held  a 
savor,  a  richness,  a  meaning  that  all  the  ease  and  free 
dom  and  luxury  she  had  known  had  never  given  her. 
She  loved  him,  and  he  loved  her. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  touch  his  hair.  Then 
quickly  drew  it  back.  A  loud  creak  in  the  room  out 
side  snapped  on  her  ears  like  a  pistol-shot  and  brought 
her  to  a  convulsive  attention.  She  sat  there  motion 
less,  every  faculty  keyed  to  concert-pitch.  But  there 
was  no  further  noise.  Only  the  unbroken,  stagnant 

194 


SWALLOWED  UP  195 

silence.  At  last  she  relaxed.  It  was  but  the  settling 
of  the  old  house.  Her  vigil  would  be  full  of  these 
night  noises.  She  must  steel  her  nerves  to  that  sort 
of  thing. 

How  long  had  she  been  watching?  The  hour  must 
be  almost  up.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  wake  him. 
She  drew  out  the  watch  and  glanced  at  its  luminous 
dial.  Only  ten  minutes  after  eleven.  She  could 
hardly  believe  that  it  had  not  stopped.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  ages  had  passed. 

The  black  stillness  wrapped  itself  about  her  like  a 
cloak.  Kelsey  was  sleeping  so  deeply  now  that  she 
got  the  idea  he  was  no  longer  breathing.  In  terror 
she  bent  closer,  and  her  fingers  went  fluttering  to  his 
face.  He  stirred  slightly  at  her  touch,  drew  a  short 
breath  or  two,  and  then  as  she  withdrew  her  hand, 
relapsed  into  that  profound  slumber. 

She  resumed  her  musings.  Just  when  she  became 
conscious  of  the  approach  of  a  motor,  she  could  not 
tell.  Its  pulsating  throb  seemed  to  have  been  beating 
on  the  air  for  some  seconds,  before  she  recognized 
what  it  was.  She  thrust  her  head  forward,  listening. 
Driven  at  high  speed,  it  was  coming  nearer.  Sig 
nificant,  on  this  unfrequented  road. 

She  debated  a  moment  whether  to  wake  Kelsey, 
but  deciding  to  make  sure  first  that  an  actual  danger 
threatened  them,  she  softly  pushed  back  the  panel  and 
slipped  out  into  the  room  and  over  to  the  window. 

The   car,   a   speedy  roadster  containing  two  men, 


196  SWALLOWED  UP 

whirled  in  at  the  gate  and  up  the  weed-grown  drive, 
and  stopped  with  a  grinding  of  the  brakes  almost 
directly  beneath  her. 

Out  from  the  shadow  of  the  porch  came  a  man  and 
walked  toward  it.  Kelsey's  prudence  in  not  leaving 
their  retreat  too  soon  was  justified.  The  searchers 
had  left  some  one  on  guard.  The  driver  of  the  car 
jumped  out  to  meet  him;  and  as  they  moved  forward 
into  the  glare  of  the  head-lamps,  Hope  shrank  back 
trembling.  The  figure  in  the  long,  light  motor-coat 
was  Bristow. 

The  two  stood  talking,  the  man  evidently  giving 
his  report,  Bristow  breaking  in  with  short,  direct  in 
quiries. 

Hope  forced  herself  to  conquer  her  frightened  re 
coil,  and  again  drew  as  near  the  window  as  she  dared. 
If  only  she  could  hear  what  they  were  saying!  Some 
thing  might  be  dropped  which  would  indicate  the  scope 
and  nature  of  their  plans. 

Never  taking  her  eyes  off  them,  and  with  infinite 
pains,  she  unlatched  the  window  and  raised  the  lower 
sash  a  fraction.  By  a  miracle  it  lifted  easily,  and 
without  a  squeak.  Kneeling  on  the  floor,  she  laid 
her  ear  close  to  the  sill.  The  voices  floated  up  to  her 
distinctly. 

"No  doubt  about  their  having  given  you  boneheads 
the  slip,"  Bristow  was  saying.  He  did  not  raise  his 
voice  nor  storm,  but  the  man  cringed  at  his  tone. 
"You're  sure,  they  didn't  get  into  the  house?" 


SWALLOWED  UP  197 

"I  don't  see  how  they  could  have.  We  went  over 
it  with  a  fine-tooth  comb." 

"Then  it's  no  use  spending  further  time  here.  You 
say  the  others  have  been  down  in  the  woods  for  an 
hour?  That  ought  to  be  long  enough  to  look  under 
every  bush  and  behind  every  stump.  Kelsey's  too 
cunning  to  hope  to  find  cover  in  that  little  patch  of 
trees,  and  he'd  keep  clear  of  roads  and  houses,  too. 
He'd  strike  for  the  shore,  aiming  to  steal  a  boat  and 
get  away  in  the  fog.  I've  already  blocked  that  move; 
we'll  have  them  by  morning.  But  those  fellows  down 
in  the  woods  will  be  more  useful  on  the  beach.  Call 
them  in." 

The  man  drew  a  whistle  from  his  pocket  and  blew 
piercingly  on  it. 

Hope's  heart  was  singing.  Within  a  few  minutes 
the  pack  would  be  off  on  their  false  scent.  Perhaps 
it  might  be  best  to  remain  in  the  old  house  for  an 
other  day ;  she  would  consult  Kelsey  about  that  when 
she  woke  him.  At  any  rate,  they  would  not  have  to 
act  on  the  exigencies  of  the  moment.  They  would 
have  time  to  decide  upon  the  safest  course  for  them 
to  take,  and  plan  it  in  detail. 

Bristow  was  tramping  up  and  down  the  drive  below. 
She  saw  him  stop  short  and  turn  his  head  toward  the 
road  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that  which  he  him 
self  had  come.  She  caught  at  the  same  time  the 
thrumming  of  another  motor. 

"Who's  that?"  Bristow  exclaimed. 


i98  SWALLOWED  UP 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  for  his  answer.  The  car, 
a  physician's  runabout,  turned  in  at  the  gate  and  drove 
up.  A  thin,  elderly  man  got  out  and  stepped  toward 
Bristow. 

"Ah,  Dr.  Creamer;  you?"  Bristow  reverted  to  his 
more  suave  and  courteous  manner,  although  there  was 
interrogation  in  his  tone. 

"I  see  you  got  ahead  of  me,"  said  the  other.  "Was 
it  a  serious  injury?" 

"Injury?"  Bristow  stared  at  him.  "I  don't  know 
what  you're  talking  about.  I'm  out  after  two  run 
away  patients." 

"So?"  Creamer  clicked  his  tongue  commiseratingly. 
"But  I  got  a  call  to  come  out  here  to  an  automobile 
accident.  I  was  away  from  my  office  at  the  time." 
His  voice  like  himself  was  rather  mild  and  vague. 

"Oh,  I  see."  Bristow  nodded.  "That  must  have 
been  my  two  patients.  They  took  my  car  and  made 
kindling-wood  of  it  just  the  other  side  of  the  hedge 
there.  But  their  own  injuries  must  have  been  trifling, 
if  they  had  any.  At  least  they've  been  able  to  show  a 
clean  pair  of  heels  to  my  men,  and But,"  ab 
ruptly,  "who  gave  you  word  of  this  accident, 
Doctor?" 

"Well,  that  was  the  funny  part  of  it,"  Creamer  be 
gan  in  his  slow  way.  "I  was  out  on  a  call,  as  I  tell 
you,  over  to  Melville  Hawkins's  on  the  Port  Jefferson 
Road,  and  when  I  got  back  my  wife  told  me  that  Tom 
Simonds,  the  garage  man,  had  been  trying  to  get  me. 


SWALLOWED  UP  199 

I  called  Tom  up,  and  he  said  that  about  ten  o'clock 
some  fellow  on  a  motor-cycle  had  come  dashing  up 
to  his  place  and  wanted  to  know  how  to  get  to  the 
nearest  doctor,  saying  there  had  been  a  terrible  accident 
out  this  way — car  overturned  with  a  man  and  a  woman 
in  it,  the  woman  apparently  not  hurt  but  the  man 
either  dead  or  dying." 

"Did  Simonds  know  this  man  on  the  motor-cycle?" 
Bristow  interjected. 

"That's  the  joke  I  was  just  coming  to.  Tom,  it 
seems,  had  been  talking  over  the  wire  to  his  brother 
Ben  not  two  minutes  before.  You  remember  Ben, 
Doctor ;  moved  away  and  started  a  garage  up  in  West- 
chester  County.  Well,  he  had  been  swindled  earlier 
in  the  evening  by  a  slick  stranger  that  came  along  and 
sold  him  an  imitation  meerschaum  pipe.  He  gave  Tom 
a  description  of  the  chap,  and  asked  him  to  look  out 
for  him  if  he  ever  happened  to  come  this  way.  And, 
sir,  Tom  had  hardly  got  through  talking  to  him  and 
rung  off,  when  in  popped  the  identical  fellow  with' this 
story  of  the  accident. 

"Tom's  a  deputy  sheriff,  you  know,  and  he  walked 
Mr.  Swindler  right  over  to  the  calaboose.  He  wasn't 
inclined  to  take  much  stock  in  anything  the  fellow  said; 
but  the  man  was  so  persistent  about  this  accident,  that 
he  finally  telephoned  to  me. 

"Of  course,"  he  rambled  on,  "considerable  time 
had  elapsed  before  I  got  the  message,  and  it  was  prob 
able.,  that  the  people  had  already  been,  attended  to., 


200  SWALLOWED  UP 

But  then  again,  they  might  not.  It's  a  lonely  section 
out  here.  So  I  came  on  the  chance  that  I  might  be 
needed." 

"You  didn't  talk  to  this  fellow  in  the  calaboose 
yourself?"  Bristow  asked  sharply. 

"No;  I  got  the  story  from  Tom." 

"And  Simonds  didn't  say  whether  this  motor-cyclist 
knew  the  man  and  woman  in  the  car?"  He  put  the 
question  with  tightened  lips. 

"Not  that  I  recollect,  although  I  sort  of  gathered 
the  impression  that  they  were  strangers  to  him.  Why 
do  you  ask,  Doctor?  Think  these  runaways  of  yours 
had  help  from  the  outside?" 

"These  patients  would,  have  neither  the  influence 
nor  the  money  for  that."  Bristow  made  a  hasty  dis 
claiming  gesture.  "No;  my  idea  was  that  they  might 
have  babbled  something  to  him — something  of  their 
plans,  I  mean.  I  suppose  Simonds  will  hold  his  pris 
oner  on  this  swindling  charge?" 

"With  his  own  brother  making  the  complaint?" 
Creamer  cackled  derisively. 

"When  I  get  my  flown  birds,  I  may  drop  over  and 
have  a  talk  with  the  fellow.  At  present  I'm  too  busy 
directing  the  search.  We  tracked  them  to  the  point 
where  they  had  overturned  the  car,  but  since  then  they 
seem  to  have  vanished  into  the  air.  It's  certain  they're 
not  in  the  house,  and  we've  been  going  through  the 
woods  for  over  an  hour  without  any  results. 

"Whistle  again  for  those  men,  John,"  he  ordered 


SWALLOWED  UP  201 

impatiently.     "They're  taking  all  night  to  come  in." 

Creamer  gave  a  jump  as  the  shrill  blast  was  re 
peated.  He  had  been  staring  at  the  house,  lost  in 
thought,  piecing  together  the  fragments  of  some  old 
memory. 

"Look  here,  Doctor,"  he  laid  his  hand  on  Bristow's 
arm;  "wasn't  it  from  the  Rose  heirs  that  Loring  Ran 
ger  bought  this  property?  Or  no;  you  wouldn't  re 
member.  That  was  twenty  years  ago,  before  your 
time.  But  no  matter;  I'm  sure  that  it  was.  And  I've 
got  a  sort  of  a  dim  recollection  of  a  story  I  heard  when 
I  first  started  in  practice  here,  that  one  of  the  Rose 
houses — it  may  not  have  been  this  one ;  it  might  have 
been  Jim  Rose's  place  over  east,  or  Dave  Rose's  down 
on  the  shore — but  one  of  them  anyhow,  so  the  tale 
went,  was  built  with  a  secret  hiding-place  in  it  for 
escape  from  the  Indians." 

"What?"  Bristow's  voice  was  like  the  clang  of 
steel  on  iron. 

"But  as  I  say,"  Creamer  maundered  on;  "it  might 
not  be  this  house  at  all.  And  even  if  it  is,  how  would 
those  patients  of  yours  know  anything  about  it." 

"You  never  can  tell  what  a  lunatic  knows,"  said 
Bristow  darkly.  "We'll  search  the  house  again. 
Some  one  in  the  neighborhood  must  know  the  way 
to  that  hiding-place, — some  of  the  old  people?" 

"They've  all  died  off.  And  I  don't  believe  any  of 
the  present  generation  of  Roses  would  know  either. 
They're  only  distant  cousins." 


202  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Never  mind."  Bristow  brushed  discussion  aside. 
"If  it's  there,  I'll  find  it.  Wherever  it  is,  I'll  find  it 
if  I  have  to  tear  the  old  barracks  apart,  board  by 
board.  Are  those  fellows  never  coming1,  John? 
Give  them  another  whistle,  and  keep  at  it  until  they 
show  up. 

"You  see,"  he  explained  to  Creamer,  "I've  got  to 
get  those  two  without  loss  of  time.  The  woman 
is  a  sister  of  my  head  nurse,  Miss  Copley.  She's  in 
a  terrible  state  about  the  girl.  The  man  is  danger 
ous — marked  homicidal  mania.  He  made  a  murder 
ous  attack  on  me  just  before  he  left.  I  don't  dare 
to  think  what  may  happen." 

Hope  knelt  at  the  window  frozen  into  immobility. 
She  had  felt  so  secure,  so  certain  that  they  had  thrown 
dust  into  Bristow's  eyes,  that  Creamer's  revelation 
drawn  from  the  dusty  pigeon-holes  of  his  memory 
came  like  a  physical  blow  on  her  heart,  stunning  her 
into  a  paralysis  of  thought  and  feeling. 

This  was  the  end  of  their  brave  adventure.  They 
would  be  taken.  She  realized  it  impersonally,  the 
whole  ignominious  capture ;  but  it  didn't  seem  to  mean 
anything  to  her. 

She  looked  at  Creamer,  mild,  kindly,  no  suggestion 
of  the  bloodhound  about  him.  They  had  baffled,  out 
matched'  Bristow.  And  then  at  the  last  minute  he 
had  been  led  to  the  scent  by  this  garrulous,  old  country 
doctor. 

One   great,,  heaving  s.ob  broke   through  her   lios.. 


SWALLOWED  UP  203 

The  torpid  blood  ran  scorching  through  her  veins. 
She  had  never  known  what  it  was  to  hate,  but  now 
she  quivered,  burned  with  a  savage  fury.  She  wanted 
to  throw  herself  on  this  frail,  old  man,  choke  him, 
tear  his  face  with  her  finger-nails. 

He  was  to  blame.  Through  his  officious  tattles, 
she  and  Kelsey  would  be  dragged  back  to  that  hor 
rible  place. 

No!  Her  spirit  rose  in  revolt.  That  should  not 
be.  If  they  could  not  both  escape,  one  of  them  must. 
But  how?  How? 

Suppose  one  of  them  were  to  surrender,  and  mis 
lead  Bristow  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  other?  But 
which  one?  Oh,  not  she.  It  was  Hope  Ranger  they 
really  wanted.  She  couldn't  go  back.  And  yet  Kel 
sey,  as  a  man,  had  the  better  chance.  He  could  pass 
unnoticed  where  she,  a  woman,  would  be  stopped 
and  questioned.  Yes ;  she  was  the  one  to  go. 

In  the  pocket  of  her  jacket  was  a  pencil  and  some 
of  the  paper  she  had  used  in  her  senseless  scribbling. 
Hastily  she  wrote  on  one  of  the  sheets : 

"Bristow  knows  there  is  a  hiding-place  in  the  house. 
I  am  going  to  give  myself  up.  Reach  my  father.  Love 
forever. 

Hope." 

Without  giving  her  impulse  time  to  cool,  she  hur 
ried  back  to  the  cupboard  and  crept  into  the  passage, 
closing  the  panel  carefully  behind  her.  Kelsey  still 
lay  in  deep,  exhausted  sleep.  She  bent  over  him, 


204  SWALLOWED  UP 

her  lips  near  to  his;  then  drew  back,  fearing  to  waken 
him.  Very  gently  she  slipped  the  note  between  his  re 
laxed  fingers,  and  then  felt  her  way  along  the  wall 
until  she  reached  the  other  exit. 

She  was  delayed  here  for  a  second  or  two  in  man 
ipulating  the  panel,  but  accomplished  it ;  and  through 
inky  blackness  wormed  on  hands  and  knees  across 
the  rafters  of  the  kitchen-loft  to  the  scuttle.  Still  in 
blackness  she  swung  herself  down  through  it  and 
dropped. 

Just  as  she  let  go,  the  terrifying  thought  came  to  her 
that  the  floor  might  have  been  removed  from  the  kit 
chen  chamber,  and  she  go  crashing  down  the  full 
depth  of  the  ell.  But  the  next  instant  she  landed 
with  a  little  thud  on  the  solid  boards,  and  groped  her 
way  to  the  stairs  descending  to  the  woodshed  in  the 
rear  of  the  house. 

How  they  creaked !  It  seemed  to  her  that  every  step 
she  took  must  advertise  her  to  the  group  out  on  the 
driveway.  She  could  hear  plainly  the  blowing  of 
the  whistle,  and  even  the  crunching  of  their  boots  on 
the  gravel. 

The  woodshed  door  grated  wheezily,  too,  as  she 
tried  to  open  it.  For  all  she  could  do,  the  rusty  old 
hinges  whined  in  a  high,  complaining  key  as  she  drew 
it  back. 

Outside  at  last;  and  still  no  sign  that  she  had  at 
tracted  any  attention.  Shielded  by  two  or  three  out 
buildings,  and  concealed  by  patches  of  shrubbery,  she 


SWALLOWED  UP  205 

reached  the  gap  in  the  hedge.  Passing  through  it, 
she  made  a  quick  detour  to  the  right  to  muddy  her 
skirt  and  shoes  in  the  trickle  of  a  brook;  and  so 
at  last  came  to  the  open  space  where  the  wrecked  auto 
mobile  lay. 

She  heard  the  men  approaching  who  had  been 
whistled  back  from  the  woods,  and  began  dodging 
from  tree  to  tree  as  if  attempting  to  hide. 

They  saw  her  as  she  had  intended  they  should. 
They  stopped,  stalked  her,  closed  in  about  her.  Two 
of  them  caught  her.  She  made  a  show  of  struggle, 
but  they  held  her  fast  by  the  arms. 

In  answer  to  their  shouts,  Bristow  and  the  others 
came  running  through  the  hedge. 

"Ah!"  he  said  with  unctuous  satisfaction  as  if  a 
weight  had  been  suddenly  removed  from  his  chest. 
"Now  to  get  the  other  one."  His  eyes  were  like  points 
of  steel  as  he  came  close  to  Hope. 

"Where's  Kelsey?"  he  demanded. 

She  looked  at  him  vacantly. 

"Who?" 

"Kelsey,"  he  repeated,  "the  man  you  went  away 
with.  Where  is  he?" 

"That  man?  He  was  under  the  automobile;  there 
was  blood  on  him." 

"Yes,  yes.     But  what  became  of  him?" 

She  leaned  toward  him  with  the  air  of  imparting 
a  confidence. 

"That   man   is   crazy.     He  said  he  wasn't,   but   I 


206  SWALLOWED  UP 

know  better.  I  wanted  him  to  hide  in  the  woods. 
I  know  these  woods."  She  passed  her  hand  uncer 
tainly  over  her  forehead.  "I  don't  know  how  I  know 
them,  but  I  do.  I  wanted  him  to  hide  here,  but  he 
wouldn't  do  it.  He  talked  about  getting  a  boat  down 
on  the  beach,  and  when  I  wouldn't  go  with  him  he 
ran  away."  She  waved  her  hand  vaguely  toward 
the  shore. 

"But  you  were  both  in  the  house?"  Bristow  held 
her  with  his  compelling,  hypnotic  gaze. 

"The  house?  I  know  the  house  too.  I  told  him. 
But,"  plaintively,  "he  wouldn't  go.  I've  lost  my  pen 
cil,  and  I  can't  write.  Please  give  me  a  pencil." 

Bristow's  eyes  bored  through  her,  but  she  looked 
beyond  him  listlessly  indifferent. 

Finally  he  gave  a  curt  order  to  have  her  taken 
back  to  the  hospital.  As  she  took  her  place  in  the 
motor  between  two  attendants,  she  stole  a  covert  glance 
at  him.  His  face  was  impenetrable.  Did  he  believe 
her?  Would  he  still  search  the  house?  Had  she 
saved  Kelsey,  or  really  accomplished  anything  at  all? 

Again  in  the  sanitarium,  in  that  muffled  atmosphere 
of  secrecy  and  silence,  encompassed  by  reticence  and 
reserve,  she  would  know  only  by  results. 

The  tension  to  which  she  had  been  keyed  all  evening 
broke,  and  the  reaction  was  correspondingly  acute. 
She  shivered.  Her  courage  was  gone.  She  felt  weak, 
helpless,  afraid.  She  thought  of  Higgins,  a  gray, 
evil  old  bird  of  prey;  of  Bristow,  brilliant,  plausible 


SWALLOWED  UP  207 

to  the  point  of  making  black  seem  white,  the  iron  hand 
in  the  velvet  glove;  of  Anita  Copley,  avaricious,  poi 
sonous,  unfettered  by  scruples. 

It  came  to  her  with  stunning  force,  that  unless  Kel- 
sey  were  speedily  recaptured,  these  would  see  the  im 
minent  collapse  of  their  whole  carefully-built  structure 
of  extortion  and  blackmail,  their  personal  safety  and 
reputation  in  jeopardy.  They  would  never  permit 
that.  They  would  go  to  any  lengths  to  obliterate 
all  proof  against  them. 

Oh,  what  was  before  her?     What? 


CHAPTER  XXI 

KELSEY  woke  up  slowly,  draggingly  from  his 
long,  exhausted  sleep  and  blinked  his  heavy 
eyes. 

Why,  it  was  daylight!  She  hadn't  wakened  him. 
She  had  let  him  sleep  all  night.  But — light? 

His  whole  sleep-fogged  brain  was  roused  now. 
Why  was  the  panel  open?  Ah!  There  she  stood  in 
it —  No!  It  was  a  man. 

He  was  on  his  feet  in  that  narrow  space  with  the 
sharp  leap  of  an  uncoiled  spring. 

"Hope?"  The  cry  burst  from  him.  It  was  at  once 
a  call  to  her  and  an  expression  of  the  consternation 
that  struck  through  him. 

Then  he  sprang. 

The  man  in  the  opening  ducked,  and  raised  one 
arm  to  shield  himself. 

"I'm  a  friend!''  he  cried,  throwing  himself  against 
the  side  of  the  cupboard.  "Honest ;  you  can  believe 
me.  A  friend  of  Ranger's." 

Kelsey  loomed  above  him,  still  threatening;  but 
his  lowering  glance  had  shifted.  What  was  this  he 
was  holding  in  his  clenched  hand — that  bit  of  white 
paper  sticking  through  his  fingers,  between  the  spread 
ing  knuckles? 

208 


SWALLOWED  UP  209 

Juarez  Charlie  had  dodged;  and  quick  as  a  cat  on 
his  feet,  stepped  from  the  cupboard  into  the  room. 

"Come  out,  and  look  around  you,"  he  invited. 
"Then  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  there's  no  one 
here." 

Kelsey  hardly  heard  him.  He  had  unclosed  his 
hand,  and  was  straightening  out  the  paper.  He  could 
see  that  there  was  something  written  on  it,  but  the  light 
was  too  dim  and  gray  for  him  to  decipher  it.  He 
was  in  the  room  and  at  the  window  in  two  strides. 

Here  he  read  Hope's  message.  The  rain  was  dash 
ing  against  the  window-panes,  the  wind  wailing  about 
the  house.  These  were  the  only  sounds.  Kelsey  stood 
stiff  and  motionless,  his  arms  hanging  lifelessly,  his 
face  the  color  of  ashes  and  wretchedly  haggard. 

"And  I  slept  through  it !  I  slept  while  she  gave 
herself  up  to  save  me!" 

There  was  a  deep  wonder  in  his  self-abasement. 
He  could  not  believe  that  he  had  done  this  incredible 
thing.  But  he  had.  She  was  gone.  Here  was  her 
note.  Facts. 

The  uprushing  blood  darkened  his  face.  He  whirled 
savagely,  and  caught  Charlie  by  the  shoulder,  shak 
ing  him  hard. 

"Who  are  you?  One  of  their  men?  Did  you  help 
take  her?" 

"I  did  not."  Charlie  wriggled  like  an  eel  from  that 
biting  grasp  and  stood  rubbing  his  shoulder.  "I'm 
one  of  Ranger's  men,  Juarez  Charlie.  Do  you  get  that  ? 


210  SWALLOWED  UP 

It's  a  name  that  means  something  among  the  boys 
that  ride  the  plates  and  hang  out  in  the  jungles." 

He  swaggered,  his  hands  in  his  trousers'  pockets, 
his  head  at  its  most  impudent  angle.  But,  neverthe 
less,  he  made  Kelsey  feel  the  serious  purpose  behind 
his  gasconade.  And  Charlie  recognized  this,  and  took 
advantage  of  it. 

"Now,  please  can  the  melodrama.  We've  got  to 
get  down  to  brass  tacks  with  a  hammer.  It's  the 
grandest  luck  in  the  world,  that  I  came  on  you  this 
morning.  I've  been  wandering  about  with  one-third 
of  a  picture-puzzle,  trying  to  piece  the  rest  out  of  the 
air.  And  you've  got  the  other  two-thirds.  Holy 
smoke!  Between  us,  we  can  fit  the  whole  thing  to 
gether." 

"And  leave  her  there?  I  guess  not!  You  don't 
know  what  they're  capable  of.  Even  now— 

Charlie  reached  the  door  ahead  of  him,  and  spread 
his  arms  across  it. 

"I  know  just  what  they're  capable  of,  son.  Better 
than  you  do,  maybe.  But  they  can't  do  things  in  a 
minute.  They  know  that  I'm  on  their  trail,  and  that 
I've  been  in  Barcelona.  They  think  you're  drowned." 

"Drowned?  Me?"  Kelsey  repeated.  "In  heaven's 
name,  why?" 

"She  told  them  you'd  made  for  the  shore,  and  a 
boat.  Then,  that  terrific  storm.  Lord!  Did  you 
sleep  through  that?" 

"I  seem  to  have  slept  through  everything,  but  my 


SWALLOWED  UP  211 

own  especial  Judgment  Day.  I'm  going  through  that 
now." 

"But  still,"  Charlie  continued,  "there's  always  the 
chance  of  your  being  alive  and  at  large.  So,  every 
thing  considered,  they've  got  a  new  situation  before 
them,  something  they  haven't  foreseen.  They  have 
to  plan  new  moves,  cover  trails,  and  provide  bomb 
proof  alibis  and  excuses.  That  takes  time.  They 
can't  manufacture  a  lot  of  new  machinery  and  set  it 
going  all  at  once." 

''But,  my  God;  if  you're  what  you  say  you  are, 
one  of  Ranger's  men,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  go  out 
now  and  telephone  him  and  the  authorities." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  Charlie  retorted  with  acrid  sarcasm. 
"If  you'd  come  down  off  your  high  horse  and  take 
the  road  at  a  jog-trot,  we'd  get  along  faster.  This 
thing  isn't  quite  as  simple  as  it  sounds.  You  start 
out  to  telephone,  and  you'll  be  nabbed  sure.  You  can't 
force  me  to  go  till  I'm  ready.  I've  got  to  find  out 
what  you  know  first,  and  I'm  going  to  tell  you  what 
I  know.  We'll  have  the  whole  scenario  then,  and  can 
get  out  on  location,  ready  to  shoot. 

"Oh,"  seeing  the  unyielding  stubbornness  of  Kelsey's 
face.  "I'm  not  asking  your  right  eye  or  left  leg; 
only  ten  minutes  of  your  valuable  time.  Buck  up, 
son ;  and  believe  that  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about. 
Here,"  he  held  out  his  sack  of  tobacco  and  cigarette 
papers ;  "calm  your  nerves.  You'll  want  them  on  ice 
before  we're  through." 


212  SWALLOWED  UP 

Half-convinced,  Kelsey  gave  way  ungraciously,  and 
throwing  himself  in  a  chair,  began  to  roll  a  cigarette 
with  awkward,  unsteady  ringers. 

"What  sort  of  a  place  is  this  sanitarium?"  The 
brusque  tang  of  the  question  gave  Kelsey  the  feeling 
that  Charlie  was  really  heading  somewhere,  and 
aroused  him  from  his  melancholy  abstraction. 

"Bristow's?"  He  looked  up.  "One  of  the  best 
in  the  country.  Only  for  the  very  rich  of  course ; 
thoroughly  modern,  splendidly  managed.  Bristow  is 
an  alienist  of  the  first  rank,  with  a  criminal  twist  and 
a  craze  for  money." 

"What  were  you  doing  there?" 

Kelsey  told  him  briefly  of  his  position  as  assistant- 
surgeon,  and  the  circumstances  of  his  detention;  of  his 
first  experience  with  Hope  and  of  the  role  she  was 
playing;  of  their  subsequent  meetings  and  the  escape. 

Charlie's  cigarette  burned  to  ashes  in  his  fingers 
as  he  listened,  his  face  sharpened  down  until  it  was 
wolfish ;  but  he  did  not  once  interrupt  the  story,  or  ask 
a  question. 

"Bristow!"  He  held  up  one  of  his  lightning- 
rolled  cigarettes,  naming  it.  "But,"  squinting  thought 
fully,  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table,  "he  couldn't  swing  it 
alone.  Too  big.  Who  else  is  in  it?" 

He  shot  the  question  at  Kelsey  like  a  bullet  from 
a  rapid-fire  revolver. 

"Miss    Copley.     She's   a   nurse.     Looks   strikingly 


SWALLOWED  UP  213 

like  Hope.  Passes  as  an  older  sister  in  charge  of  the 
insane  younger  one." 

Charlie  pursed  his  mouth  in  a  whistle. 

"A  ringer !     Clever.     Stops  all  questions  that  way." 

He  held  up  another  cigarette,  and  placed  it  beside 
the  first. 

"Copley!     Any  one  else?" 

"Higgins.  An  ex-Alderman.  An  old  millionaire. 
Made  a  fortune  in  Wall  Street,  they  say." 

Charlie  bounded  up  with  a  stifled  exclamation,  his 
tongue  clicking  against  his  teeth. 

"Hobo  Bill !  That  does  settle  it.  Hobo  Bill !  I  might 
have  known  it.  Hobo The  joker  in  the  deck! 

"Made  a  fortune  in  Wall  Street,"  jeeringly.  "Why, 
you  baby-child,  in  the  good,  old  days  Bill  Higgins  had 
a  cut-in  on  every  crooked  deal  turned  below  Fifty- 
ninth  Street.  Dips,  strong-arms,  wire-tappers,  con-men, 
everybody.  They  all  had  to  settle  with  him ;  and 
believe  me,  he  didn't  take  no  short  end.  Plain  hog. 

"He  resigned  just  before  the  Hooplaw  graft  inves 
tigation.  Had  to.  Then  he  went  abroad.  I  haven't 
heard  of  him  for  five  years.  Thought  the  old  goofer 
had  cashed  in. 

"Why,  Thaddeus,"  he  brought  his  hand  down  on 
Kelsey's  knee,  "a  bunch  that  was  wised  up  to  only 
one-tenth  of  what  Hobo  Bill  could  tell  'em  wouldn't 
have  to  be  hunting  a  gold  mine.  They  could  line  up 
the  crooks,  and  live  the  life  of  Reilly." 


2i4  SWALLOWED  UP 

He  bobbed  about  the  room  like  cork,  snapping  his 
fingers,  muttering  broken  phrases  under  his  breath. 

"The  hobo  messages! —  This  booby-hatch  for  a 
head-quarters  ! —  The  nurse,  a  ringer ! —  I've  got 
the  whole  thing!" 

A  third  cigarette  rolled  quicker  than  the  eye  could 
follow  kept  the  other  two  company.  He  stopped  by 
the  table  and  held  up  the  three,  touching  each  as  he 
checked  them  off. 

"Bristow!  Copley!  Higgins!  My  boy,"  his  voice 
was  solemn,  his  unreadable  eyes  glistened,  "you've 
done  what  no  one  else  ever  could.  You've  found  the 
Combine." 

Kelsey  made  a  violent  gesture.  "What  difference 
does  it  make  what  I've  found,  when  we  haven't  found 
her?  If  you  don't  do  something  pretty  quick,  I  will. 
I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,  sitting  here  talking  when 
it's  easy  to  free  her.  They  should  be  raiding  the  place 
now." 

Charlie  surveyed  him  with  one  of  his  most  darkly 
contemptuous  glances. 

"Get  the  picture,"  he  said  roughly.  "I  go  out 
and  telephone  to  Ranger.  He  informs  the  police. 
The  minute  he  does  that,  Higgins  is  tipped  off. 
Oh,  yes,"  emphatically;  "that  will  be  all  provided 
for.  Every  little  thing's  provided  for,  you  can  be 
sure  of  that.  Ranger  and  his  crowd  of  flatties  go 
there.  Bristow's  surprised.  Oh,  very.  He  throws  the 
place  open  to  them.  No  girl.  Nothing  in  the  least 


SWALLOWED  UP  215 

suspicious.  Don't  ask  me  how.  I  only  know  that's 
the  way  things'll  be.  They'll  come  through  clean. 

"And  you  and  me,  Laddie,"  he  blew  scornfully  into 
the  air.  "What  about  us?  I'll  appear  in  Ranger's 
eyes  and  every  one  else's  as  the  wild  goose  that  started 
a  crazy  chase  that  led  nowhere.  And  you?  Well, 
you'll  be  a  dangerous  lunatic  in  close  confinement  for 
the  rest  of  your  more  than  likely  brief  life.  One  slip 
on  the  ice  and  we're  gone.  We've  got  to  work  fast; 
I  agree  to  that.  But  we've  got  to  work  right.  One 
slip — just  one — and  we're  over  the  precipice,  and  so 
is  the  girl.  I'm  telling  you." 

Seeing  that  he  had  at  last  made  some  impression  on 
Kelsey,  Charlie  went  on  in  a  less  severe  tone. 

"You  think  I'm  a  free  agent,  who  can  scout  around 
as  I  please.  Nothing  to  it.  I'm  not. —  When  you 
hear  what  happened  to  me  last  night  and  this  morning, 
you'll  see.  Then  we  can  get  down  to  our  brass  tacks 
and  decide  just  where  to  nail  them." 

"All    right.     But    make    it    short.     Begin — begin." 

"Brevity  is  my  middle  name,  Oswald.  But  see  that 
you  don't  get  restless  again,  and  make  another  dash 
for  that  noose  that's  waiting  to  be  slipped  around  your 
neck." 

Kelsey  stirred  irascibly,  but  made  no  retort;  and 
Charlie  with  a  deliberation  which  his  companion  felt 
sure  was  to  try  him  further,  lighted  the  cigarette  he 
had  named,  "Bristow,"  and  began  the  story  of  his 
adventures. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"TTN  the  first  place,"  said  Charlie,  "I've  known  Ran 
ger  ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  when  I  heard 
-*-  about  his  little  girl,  I  started  out  on  my  own  to 
find  her.  I  know  crook  psychology  better  than  old 
Byrnes  ever  did;  but  this  gang  that  are  holding  her 
fooled  me  forty  ways  from  the  ace.  No  use  saying  I 
haven't  made  a  mess  of  it  so  far,  because  I  have.  But 
last  night  I  got  a  tip  that  led  straight  to  Bristow's  Sani 
tarium. 

"I  rode  as  fast  as  my  motor-cycle  could  race  from 
Westchester  to  Barcelona,  taking  all  the  short  cuts. 
It  was  on  one  of  them  that  I  came  on  you  two.  Lord !" 
Charlie  gritted  his  teeth.  "If  I'd  only  dreamed! 

"But  I  didn't.  And  so  I  rtished  for  a  doctor, 
thinking  you  were  ready  to  kick  in;  and  as  soon  as 
I  reached  the  village,  I  got  pinched.  I'll  tell  you  the 
whys  of  that  later." 

Kelsey  signified  his  approval  of  this  consideration. 

"Of  course,"  Charlie  explained,  "I  could  have  got 
out  by  telephoning  to  Ranger.  But  for  one  thing,  I 
didn't  want  to  get  in  touch  with  him  until  I  had  gained 
the  information  I  was  after;  and  for  another  and  per 
haps  more  important  reason,  my  brutal  jailer  wouldn't 
let  me.  So  I  just  turned  in  and  went  to  sleep;  that 

216 


SWALLOWED  UP  217 

is,    as  much    as  that    fierce    storm    would  let    me. 

"But  in  the  meantime,  my  mascot  had  got  busy. 
Gee !  And  again,  Gee !  I've  always  looked  on  women 
as  trouble-makers  in  an  otherwise  bright  and  care 
free  world.  But  that  girl;  she  simply  scatters  luck 
germs.  She  it  was  who  gave  me  the  lead  to  Bris- 
tow.  I'd  had  dinner  with  her,  and  put  her  back  in 
a  bus  with  her  party.  They  all  went  on  to  spend  the 
evening  with  some  friends,  and  as  they  came  back  about 
midnight,  they  stopped  at  the  Lone  Hill  garage  for 
some  gas.  Up  steps  the  garage  man's  assistant,  a 
shock-headed  lunk,  that  had  driven  me  and  my  queen 
to  the  Inn.  He  was  all  twittering  with  excitement, 
and  tells  her  that  I've  been  arrested  over  here  at  Bar 
celona. 

"Ah,  Clarice  and  Mary  Ann!  What  a  headpiece 
that  girl's  got.  She  thinks  quicker  than  unchained 
lightning.  This  is  the  way  I  figure  out  how  she  came 
to  do  what  she  did — the  one  perfectly  right  thing. 

"Here's  her  friends  kind  of  giggling  at  her  for  being 
took  in.  She  don't  believe  that;  for  she  saw  me  with 
Ranger.  And  Barcelona  is  the  tip  she  gave  me.  But 
she  wants  to  make  sure.  So  what  does  she  do  but  call 
up  the  man  whose  name's  been  in  all  the  papers  as 
Ranger's  attorney,  Eustace  Higby. 

"He  tells  her  that  I'm  all  right,  and  then  he  routs 
out  Frank  Bryan,  Ranger's  private  secretary,  and 
shoots  him  down  here  on  the  morning  train  to  get  me 
out. 


2i 8  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Talk  about  the  great  women  of  history!  Boy, 
she's  got  'em  all  left  at  the  post." 

Kelsey  bore  these  laudations  with  what  grace  he 
could ;  but  he  looked  harassed  and  weary. 

"Now  this  is  where  you  sit  up  and  listen."  Charlie 
tapped  Kelsey  twice  on  the  chest  with  a  hortatory  fore 
finger.  "While  I  was  eating  breakfast,  an  unexpected 
caller  dropped  in  to  the  jail  to  see  me,  an  old  bird  that 
I  sized  up  for  a  doctor.  I  win.  He  is  one,  named 
Creamer,  the  original  man  who  wandered  all  around 
Robin  Hood's  barn.  When  he  talks,  he  starts  to  go 
north,  shifts  to  sou'-west,  twists  around  to  due  east, 
and  finally  comes  back  to  north  again,  giving  you  all 
the  family  history  and  every  detail  of  village  life  since 
the  first  settlers  in  sixteen  hundred  and  something. 
But  what  I  made  out  of  it  was,  that  my  man-eating 
constable  had  got  word  to  him  about  your  accident, 
and  Creamer  'd  doddered  off  to  the  scene  of  disaster 
about  three  hours  late. 

"There  he  finds  Bristow,  who  has  recovered  from  a 
desperate  attack  made  upon  him  by  a  violent  homicidal 
maniac.  That's  you." 

Kelsey  looked  it  at  the  moment.  "I  wish  I'd  killed 
him,"  he  said  with  profound  sincerity. 

"Worse  mess  for  us,  if  you  had.  Well,  of  course 
Creamer  had  to  get  all  the  gruesome  facts;  and  then 
he  remembered — he's  Main  Street's  walking  histori 
cal  society — that  this  place,  the  old  Rose  house  he 
called  it,  had  some  nook  built  into  it,  where  in  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  219 

cheery,  old  times  the  family  used  to  hide  when  the  In 
dians  wanted  to  put  a  kick  in  their  parties  by  having  a 
friendly  little  massacre  of  the  palefaces. 

"That  sets  Bristow  afire.  He's  all  for  finding  it, 
when  just  then  the  girl  turns  up.  No  doubt  but  what 
she's  been  trailing  around  through  the  woods ;  her  skirt 
and  shoes  were  wet  and  muddy.  She  was  sort  of 
dazed  and  imbecile,  but  Bristow  did  get  out  of  her 
that  the  man  had  made  for  the  shore.  Bristow  had 
been  thinking  that  way  anyhow,  and  she  bolsters  up 
his  opinion. 

"Creamer  says,  you  stole  a  boat  and  got  off,  and 
must  have  capsized  in  the  storm.  Several  boats  were 
found  adrift  this  morning,  two  of  them  bottom  up. 
Bristow  still  has  his  lines  out  for  you,  although  there's 
hardly  a  chance  that  you  could  have  been  picked  up." 

"Good  God!"  Kelsey  was  shaking  as  if  in  a  nervous 
chill.  "Think  what  she  did!  Gave  herself  up,  so  I 
could  go  free.  And  I'm  sitting  here.  Sitting  here !" 
He  sprang  up,  beating  his  hands  together  as  he  walked. 
"Why  wasn't  I  awake  to  prevent  her?  Why ?" 

"Yes,  and  they'd  have  you  both  now ;  the  girl  showed 
sense.  But  I'm  not  done  yet.  Leave  me  resume. 
Creamer  would  be  talking  still,  if  Frank  Bryan  hadn't 
blown  in.  Then  with  a  little  careful  shooing  on  my 
part,  the  old  bozo  reluctantly  took  his  leave. 

"Bryan  explained  how  he  happened  to  be  there — 
which  made  me  say  my  prayers  to  little  Goldilocks— 
and  tells  me  that  he  has  arranged  for  my  release,  as 


220  SWALLOWED  UP 

soon  as  Tom  Simonds  can  get  his  Westchester  brother 
on  the  wire  and  have  the  charge  withdrawn. 

"No,"  as  Kelsey  looked  at  him  inquiringly;  "I  can 
see  you  don't  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  But  that's 
not  important  just  now ;  Bryan  is. 

"The  minute  that  Frank  came  in  I  saw  that  he  was 
in  bad  shape.  He's  a  cold  fish,  and  I  couldn't  flatter 
myself  that  he  had  worried  to  skin  and  bones  over 
night  about  my  fix.  I'd  been  nursing  a  hunch  about 
him  for  some  time,  though,  and  this  looked  like  a 
moment  to  put  the  screws  on  him.  It  worked.  I'd 
hardly  started  in,  before  he  broke  down  and  when  an 
efficiency  machine  of  a  man  goes  to  pieces,  he  scatters 
bolts  and  cogs  and  what-not  all  over  the  place. 

"There  he  sat,  shaking  and  crying,  calling  himself 
bad  names  and  muttering  about  suicide. 

"I  told  him  that  was  all  right;  go  to  it.  But  first, 
tell  me  what  he  knew.  Little  by  little,  I  got  it  out  of 
him."  Charlie's  thin  mouth  clamped.  "Kelsey,  he 
was  in  on  that  damned  abduction." 

"What?"  Kelsey  cried.  "Mr.  Ranger's  private  sec 
retary?" 

"Yes;  just  that.  Yet  Frank's  not  bad,  nor  is  he 
particularly  weak,  either.  Oh,  stop  glaring  at  me, 
Kelsey,  as  if  I  was  an  accessory  after  the  fact.  I 
am,  and  not  ashamed  of  it.  I've  lived  too  hard  and 
long  to  curse  a  brother  for  his  sins.  Frank  was 
caught  with  all  four  feet  in  a  trap.  He's  the  good 
young  man,  with  the  bad  younger  brother. 


SWALLOWED  UP  221 

"The  Combine — that's  the  gang  that's  got  Hope — 
needed  him ;  so  they  framed  the  brother,  which  wasn't 
hard  to  do  as  the  goods  on  him  were  there  to  get. 
Then  they  closed  down  on  Frank.  He  was  told  that 
all  they  wanted  was  fifty  thousand  dollars,  which  Ran 
ger  would  never  miss,  and  the  girl  would  be  held 
in  comfort  until  it  was  paid.  If  Frank  didn't  care  to 
assist,  brother  would  go  to  Sing  Sing  for  thirty  or 
forty  years.  Frank  caved.  Some  dope  was  slipped 
into  Hope's  ice-cream  soda  while  she  and  every  one 
else  in  that  fruit  shop  was  watching  a  row  in  front  of 
the  cashier's  desk.  And  when  she  walked  out,  the 
drug  was  beginning  to  work.  She  was  growing 
groggy,  and  naturally  when  Bryan  came  forward  she 
let  him  help  her  into  the  limousine  at  the  curb.  Frank 
hated  it,  but  he  thought  it  would  be  all  over  in  a  week 
or  two ;  and  no  one  any  the  worse.  Then  when  he  re 
alized  how  he'd  fteen  played,  he  was  hog-tied.  He'd 
just  about  reached  the  breaking  point  when  Higby  sent 
him  down  to  Barcelona  and  me." 

"But  I  still  don't  see — "  Kelsey  had  followed  every 
word,  his  brow  growing  more  furrowed  as  Charlie 
went  on.  "How  could  they  know  that  she  would  go 
into  that  shop,  and  order  the  soda?" 

"They  didn't.  But  a  thing  like  that  wasn't  pulled 
off  in  a  hurry.  They  had  an  inside  man,  Bryan  says, 
named  Fitch,  whose  business  it  was  to  find  out  about 
Hope's  movements,  and  tip  them  off  when  she  was  to 
be  out  alone.  Then  they  were  ready  to  spring  any 


222  SWALLOWED  UP 

one  of  half  a  dozen  schemes,  whichever  was  the  best 
under  the  circumstances. 

"Well,  to  go  back,  I  told  Frank  about  the  escape, 
and  them  getting  her  again ;  and  he  said  it  was  funny, 
if  the  girl  really  was  Hope,  that  she  didn't  make  for 
the  hiding-place  in  the  old  house,  instead  of  taking 
to  the  woods.  I  got  keyed  up  then,  and  he  tells  me 
all  about  it.  Ranger  had  showed  it  to  him  once,  when 
they  were  down  here  together.  Then  he  falls  to  moan 
ing  and  sobbing  again,  and  I  tell  him  that  I  am  going 
to  get  the  girl,  but  I  don't  want  Ranger  in  on  it  yet; 
and  if  he'll  keep  his  mouth  shut  about  what  he  knows, 
I'll  padlock  mine  about  him.  Silence  for  silence. 

"He  weeps  some  more,  and  tries  to  kiss  my  hand, 
or  something;  and  just  then  Simon  Legree  breezes  in 
and  unwillingly  releases  me." 

Charlie,  having  finished  the  "Bristow,"  and  "Cop 
ley,"  cigarettes,  began  on  "Higgins,"  picking  up  his 
story  again  heedless  of  the  fuming  Kelsey. 

"Just  as  we  were  stepping  out  into  the  blessed  sun 
light  of  freedom — only  it  was  raining — my  eye  fell  on 
a  high  board  fence  across  the  street  from  the  hoose- 
gow;  and  there,  life-sized  and  prominent,  a  glad  mes 
sage  of  'Welcome  to  Our  City,'  stares  back  at  me.  It's 
chalked  up  in  hobo  language;  and  let  me  tell  you,  that 
he  who  read  was  very  apt  to  run.  It  said:  'Beat  it 
for  the  Far  West  at  once,  or  you'll  have  your  throat 
slit.' 


SWALLOWED  UP  223 

"There  was  a  nice  little  knot  of  on-lookers  there, 
waiting  to  see  the  prisoner  shake  off  his  chains;  and 
I  knew  the  Combine  would  have  some  innocent  by 
stander  on  hand  to  make  sure  I  got  the  friendly  word. 
So  I  fell  over  against  Bryan,  acting  scared  to  death, 
and  a  minute  later  told  Simonds  that  he  wouldn't  see 
me  again  in  these  parts,  as  I  was  off  for  sunny  Cali 
fornia,  and  intended  to  stay  there. 

"Then  I  went  with  Bryan  to  the  train,  checked  my 
motor-cycle  to  New  York,  rode  up  the  line  for  three 
stations,  hopped  a  freight  back  again,  dropped  off,  and 
making  my  way  through  these  rain-soaked  woods, 
sneaked  into  the  house. 

"And  now  we've  got  the  whole  thing."  He  tossed 
the  butt  of  his  "Higgins,"  cigarette  into  the  fire-place. 
"You  see,  don't  you,  why  I  can't  lope  into  the  village 
and  summon  Ranger?" 

"Ye-es,"  Kelsey  conceded.     "But " 

"Stop  talking,"  said  Charlie  shortly,  "and  let  me 
think.  Look  here,  Kelsey,  is  there  one  human  soul  in 
that  hospital  you  can  trust,  or  think  you  can?" 

Kelsey  reflected. 

"Morton,"  he  said,  "the  house  physician.  I  could 
trust  him,  if  we  were  ever  able  to  convince  him  that 
Bristow  is  crooked." 

"We've  got  to  get  him  here  then,  without  his  know 
ing  who  we  are;  and  I'll  undertake  to  convince  him. 
You  see,  we  must  have  some  one  inside  the  place  who'll 


224  SWALLOWED  UP 

find  out  for  us  what  they're  planning.  Think  hard, 
Kelsey;  what  will  bring  him  here?  Some  girl  he  is 
interested  in?" 

Kelsey  dismissed  this,  palms  down.  "That  wouldn't 
bring  him ;  science  is  all  he  cares  for.  Wait  a  minute," 
a  light  flashed  over  his  face.  "I  helped  him  write  a 
letter  to  one  of  the  medical  journals,  rebutting  the 
statements  in  an  article  by  a  Dr.  Jonas  Crayshaw. 
He  was  tremendously  worked  up  about  it.  Why 
couldn't  we  get  word  to  him  that  Dr.  Crayshaw  is 
down  here  writing  an  answer,  and  would  like  to  have 
a  talk  with  him?" 

"Great!''  Charlie  thumped  Kelsey  between  the 
shoulders.  "I'll  take  a  chance  and  sneak  out  to  the 
nearest  farm-house,  and  telephone  him  in  the  character 
of  Dr.  Crayshaw,  asking  him  not  to  mention  my  pres 
ence  here  to  any  one  as  I  am  working  against  time 
and  must  have  the  strictest  seclusion." 

"But  it's  dangerous  for  you  to  show  yourself 
around  here,"  Kelsey  said.  "Maybe,  I—  —  ?" 

"I'll  show  just  as  little  of  myself  as  possible,  believe 
me,"  Charlie  answered.  "And  if  I  don't  come  back, 
you'd  better  just  lie  low  here  until  night,  and  then  try 
to  reach  Ranger." 

He  paused,  and  ran  his  hands  through  his  hair. 

"I  don't  know  but  what  I'd  better  call  up  Lorry 
after  all."  He  wavered.  "We've  got  to  have 
money.  Morton  may  need  it  in  the  hospital  to  buy 


SWALLOWED  UP  225 

a  spy  or  so.  Lord!  I  hate  it.  Lorry  might  queer 
everything." 

Kelsey  gave  a  little  jump,  and  smiled  for  the  first 
time. 

"Don't  let  the  lack  of  funds  worry  you,"  he  said; 
and  drew  from  his  pocket  the  package  of  bonds,  spread 
ing  them  fan-wise  on  the  table. 

"A  hundred  thousand  dollars!"  Charlie  gaped  at 
them.  "Jumping  Jehosophat!  Why,  it's  Ranger's 
ransom-money.  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

Kelsey  told  him,  Charlie  jigging  the  while  and 
cutting  fantastic  pigeon-wings. 

"Heeled!  Heeled  like  princes!"  he  chuckled.  "Oil 
to  smooth  our  way!" 

He  took  up  his  hat  with  great  dignity.  "Dr.  Mor 
ton,  this  is  Dr.  Crayshaw  speaking,"  in  deep,  rich  tones. 

Juarez  Charlie  again,  he  folded  a  $10,000  bond  and 
placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

"I  may  have  to  do  some  buying  up  myself  outside, 
if  I  see  them  before  I'm  sniped.  So  long,  my  Prince 
of  Finance!" 

He  vanished  through  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

WHEN  Hope  drove  back  through  the  hospital 
grounds  and  walked  between  two  men  up 
the  steps,  down  which  she  had  flown  a  few 
hours  before  palpitating  with  her  splendid  dreams 
of  freedom,  she*  was  hardly  conscious  of  the  ignomini 
ous  contrast. 

Her  ears  were  straining  for  the  sound  of  a  motor 
behind  her,  the  car  which  would  bring  Kelsey. 

But  the  night  stillness  was  broken  only  by  the  rust 
ling  of  trees  in  the  wind  which  had  risen  and  was 
blowing  the  fog  before  it,  and  the  constant,  increas 
ing  mutter  of  thunder. 

Anita  Copley  met  her  in  the  hall,  and  in  that  full 
dazzle  of  light  surveyed  her  gloatingly,  a  cruel  sweep 
ing  glance  that  took  in  the  girl  from  head  to  foot. 
Then  she  peered  -past  her  through  the  open  door. 

"Where's  the  man?"  she  asked  one  of  the  guards. 

"They  haven't  found  him  yet.  He  made  for  the 
shore." 

Her  mouth  pinched.  She  was  showing  the  effects  of 
the  night's  strain.  There  was  a  bluish  tint  in  the  pallor 
of  her  face. 

She  asked  no  more  questions,  but  dismissing-  the  two 
men,  caught  Hope  by  the  arm  and  led  her  upstairs 

226 


SWALLOWED  UP  227 

to  her  room,  thrusting  her  in  through  the  door  before 
her. 

Hope  tottered  to  a  chair  and  fell  into  it.  With  an 
instinctive  impulse  to  strengthen  by  every  act  her 
story  of  wandering  through  the  woods  with  Kelsey, 
she  was  feigning  a  weariness  greater  than  she  felt. 
Her  head  dropped  against  the  back  of  the  chair,  she 
closed  her  eyes. 

Anita  knelt  before  her  and  tore  off  her  shoes. 
Carrying  them  over  to  the  light,  she  examined  them 
minutely.  They  were  wet  and  encrusted  with  sand. 
Then  bending  over  the  inert  girl,  she  unfastened  her 
skirt  and  drew  it  off.  She  gave  it  the  same  close  in 
spection,  holding  it  up  to  the  light.  Its  bedraggled 
condition  seemed  to  satisfy  her. 

There  was  a  white  flash  of  lightning,  a  jarring 
burst  of  thunder;  and  Hope,  startled,  opened  her  eyes. 

"Come,  get  undressed,"  Anita  ordered. 

Hope  twisted  petulantly,  and  let  her  head  fall  back 
again.  But  Miss  Copley  caught  her  by  the  wrist  and 
jerked  her  to  her  feet. 

Whimpering,  Hope  rubbed  her  arm. 

"So  dark  in  the  woods,"  she  sighed.  "We  walked 
and  walked,  and  ran  and  ran." 

"Where  did  he  go,  pet?"  asked  Anita  in  tender 
tones,  pressing  Hope  into  a  small  chair  and  beginning 
to  take  down  her  hair  with  gentle  fingers.  "He's  a 
bad  man  to  go  and  leave  you."  Anita  was  all  indig 
nant  sympathy. 


228  SWALLOWED  UP 

"I  knew  the  way,"  Hope  said  resentfully.  "I  knew 
everything  back  there.  But  he  pulled  me  along  and 
wouldn't  listen.  I  got  away,"  proudly;  "I  wouldn't 
go  to  the  water." 

"You're  mighty  bright  to-night,"  Anita  muttered 
under  her  breath. 

Aloud  she  asked  in  soft  surprise:  "And  he  wanted 
you  to  go  down  to  that  black,  cold  water?" 

Hope  stared  at  her  own  image  in  the  glass,  and 
drooped  against  the  side  of  the  dressing-table. 

"Boats,"  she  said  dreamily.     "Boats." 

Anita  was  brushing  the  girl's  hair  with  long,  gentle 
strokes,  an  unwonted  attention. 

"And  he  said  there  were  boats,  dearie?" 

"I  don't  know,"  vaguely.     I'm  tired." 

Anita  plied  her  with  more  questions;  but  Hope 
either  repeated,  "I'm  tired,"  or  said  nothing.  Her 
eyelids  fell  over  her  eyes;  she  raised  them  with 
difficulty. 

"Idiot!"  The  coo  was  gone  from  Miss  Copley's 
voice.  She  hauled  Hope  up,  and  gave  her  a  push 
that  sent  her  stumbling  towrard  the  bed. 

"Get  in  there,  and  go  to  sleep." 

Hope  lay  down  docilely,  and  almost  immediately 
seemed  to  fall  asleep. 

Anita,  after  lowering  the  light,  seated  herself  where 
she  could  keep  her  eyes  on  both  her  charge  and  the 
door.  She  sat  upright,  nerves  and  muscles  rigid, 
listening  for  some  activity  below.  Once  she  rose  preci- 


SWALLOWED  UP  229 

pitately  and  stepping  softly  past  Hope's  bed,  opened 
the  door  and  listened.  Coming  back,  she  took  up  the 
same  waiting  attitude,  and  pressed  her  hands  dis 
tractedly  to  her  temples. 

Hope  wondered  how  she  could  expect  to  hear  any 
thing.  The  wind  was  furious  now;  sheets  of  lightning 
alternated  with  the  roll  and  crash  of  thunder.  Anita's 
nervousness  was  visibly  increased  by  the  uproar ;  but 
Hope  was  not  affected.  What  was  this  disturbance 
of  the  elements  compared  to  the  storm  within  her  heart? 

She  lay  there,  stirring  a  little  at  the  reverberations 
of  an  especially  loud  peal,  and  watching.  Time,  which 
had  resolved  itself  into  suspense,  had  never  gone  so 
slowly. 

Over  an  hour,  surely  almost  two,  must  have  passed ; 
and  they  had  not  brought  Kelsey  back.  She  dared 
not  allow  herself  to  hope.  They  might  be  holding 
him  in  the  old  house  until  the  storm  abated.  But, 
nevertheless,  they  had  not  come.  She  felt  sure  of 
that.  If  they  had,  Anita  Copley,  showing  by  the 
perpetual  tapping  of  her  foot,  the  constant  gnawing 
of  her  lip,  her  whole  strained  attitude,  the  wear  and 
torment  she  was  enduring,  would  either  have  heard 
them  or  been  summoned. 

At  last  the  woman  could  bear  her  vigil  no  longer. 
She  got  up  again,  bent  over  Hope  to  assure  herself 
that  she  was  asleep,  then  turning  down  the  light  to  a 
spark,  went  out,  locking  the  door  behind  her. 

The   storm   was   lessening   in   violence,   and   Hope 


23o  SWALLOWED  UP 

propped  herself  up  on  her  pillows,  determined  to  listen 
for  any  indications  that  might  betoken  Bristow's 
return. 

But  although  she  was  not  conscious  of  physical 
fatigue,  she  was  mentally  and  emotionally  exhausted, 
and  before  she  knew  it  she  slept. 

When  she  awoke  the  next  morning,  a  heavy  gale 
was  blowing  from  the  sea,  and  the  rain  was  coming 
down  steadily.  She  was  glad  of  that.  It  would  ob 
literate  any  trace  of  Kelsey's  and  her  footprints  about 
the  house.  But  she  was  angry  with  herself  for 
sleeping. 

Yet  her  brain  felt  clearer  for  the  rest.  She  was 
calmer,  more  able  to  keep  at  elbow  length  the  black, 
hopeless  despair  that  threatened  to  engulf  her. 

If  they  had  Kelsey — and  for  the  present,  she  clung  to 
the  belief  that  they  had  not — she  would  know  it  as 
soon  as  she  saw  Anita  Copley.  The  woman  would 
not  be  able  wholly  to  conceal  either  her  relief  or  her 
anxiety. 

But  if  Kelsey  were  free,  then  she  knew  that  he 
would  in  some  way  reach  her  father.  He  would 
have  to  be  very  wary,  though,  infinitely  cautious  in 
doing  so ;  for  these  people  would  not  leave  a  stone  un 
turned  to  prevent  him. 

It  might  be  days  before  he  could  find  the  safe  way. 
And  every  hour,  every  moment  of  delay  meant  an 
increase  of  danger  to  herself.  Again  she  struggled 
with  panic.  Terrific  questions  assaulted  her  brain. 


SWALLOWED  UP  231 

What  would  they  do  with  her?  She  would  have  to 
wait,  utterly  passive,  a  prisoner  in  this  room,  while 
that  dreadful,  silent  menace  crept  nearer,  closer,  until 
it  struck. 

Cold  to  her  finger-tips,  nauseated,  shaking  from  head 
to  foot,  she  buried  her  face  in  the  pillows,  praying 
wildly  for  strength,  for  courage,  for  time.  Oh,  most 
of  all,  for  time! 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  and  pushed  her  hair  back  from 
her  face.  Give  her  time,  and  she — !  What  could 
she  do? 

But  now  the  query  was  not  a  cry  of  despair,  but  a 
call — a  trumpet-call  to  her  spirit.  She  had  circum 
vented  them  once,  fooled  them.  Was  there  no  way 
she  could  do  it  again?  Was  any  one  ever  entirely 
helpless?  She  could  not,  would  not  admit  it. 

The  iron  in  her  nature,  that  refusal  to  accept  an 
ultimate  defeat  which  she  had  inherited  from  the  father 
who  started  with  nothing  but  his  hands  and  his  brain, 
asserted  itself.  There  must  be  something  she  could 
do  to  gain  delay.  Somewhere  in  this  chain  of  cir 
cumstance  which  bound  her,  there  must  be  a  weak  link. 

But  what  was  it?  She  was  one,  in  a  fixed  place, 
this  room ;  the  others  were  three,  and  moved  about  at 
will — three  acting  in  concert.  Acting  in  concert! 
With  the  repetition  of  the  words,  a  thrill  ran  over  her 
from  head  to  foot,  and  there  came  a  flash  of  illumin 
ation. 

If  that  unity,  that  close  concord  could  be  broken, 


232  SWALLOWED  UP 

if  they  got  to  arguing  and  disagreeing  among  them 
selves,  it  would  inevitably  mean  postponement  of  action. 
That  was  all  she  asked,  if  Kelsey  had  not  already 
been  taken — postponement  of  action. 

But  how  precipitate  this  dissension?  What  weapons 
had  she,  whom  they  regarded  as  an  imbecile? 

She  was  up  now,  walking  about  the  room,  seeking 
in  movement  the  clarity  of  vision  that  would  show 
her  the  way. 

She  stopped  before  the  mirror,  gazing  fixedly  yet 
almost  unseeingly  at  her  own  reflected  face  and  figure. 
Suddenly,  while  her  mind  still  grappled  with  the 
question,  she  awoke  to  a  vivid  consciousness  of  that 
image  in  the  glass,  and  a  deep  feminine  intuition  sup 
plied  the  answer. 

Her  beauty!  Woman's  greatest  weapon  since  the 
world  began.  It  was  all  that  was  left  her.  With  it, 
backed  by  her  wits,  she  must  play  a  last  desperate 
game  with  her  three  antagonists. 

She  looked  at  the  little  clock  on  the  dressing-table. 
It  was  growing  late.  Miss  Copley  would  be  in  at  any 
moment  now.  She  must  dress  and  be  ready  for  her. 

She  was  just  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her 
toilet  when  the  nurse  entered  with  the  breakfast  tray. 
Hope's  heart  stopped,  and  then  beat  madly.  Anita 
looked  as  if  she  had  not  closed  her  eyes  through  the 
night.  They  were  weary,  hollow,  rimmed  with 
shadow.  Her  cheeks  were  wan.  Signs  plain  as 
print  that  Kelsey  had  not  yet  been  captured, 


SWALLOWED  UP  233 

As  she  saw  Hope  standing  there  fully  dressed,  she 
halted  so  abruptly  that  the  dishes  rattled  on  the  tray. 
She  put  it  down  hastily,  and  looked  at  her  patient 
with  unconcealed  amazement. 

"You're  not  usually  so  spry,"  she  said  sourly. 
"What  did  you  fix  your  hair  that  way  for?" 

Hope  affected  astonishment  at  the  question. 

"Why,  I  always  do  it  this  way." 

Anita  scowled,  but  seemed  unable  to  take  her  eyes 
off  the  girl. 

"Eat  your  breakfast,"  she  said  peremptorily,  and 
walking  over  to  the  window  stood  with  her  back  to 
Hope,  looking  out  on  the  rain-soaked  grounds,  biting 
her  raw  lip  in  absorbed  cogitation. 

Finally  she  turned,  as  Hope  was  finishing  her  coffee. 

"I'll  get  your  pencil  and  paper  for  you." 

Hope  objected,  pushing  out  her  hands  pettishly. 

"I  never  want  to  see  them  again,"  she  said.  "What 
would  I  do  with  pencil  and  paper?  I  have  no  one  to 
write  to." 

Miss  Copley  gave  her  another  long  look,  a  peculiarly 
sinister  one  this  time,  and  left  the  room. 

A  little  later,  Dr.  Bristow  knocked,  unlocked  the 
door,  and  came  in.  He  was  tubbed  and  dressed  with 
his  usual  meticulous  care,  but  he  had  not  been  able  to 
obliterate  the  traces  of  worry  and  fatigue.  He  looked 
even  more  worn  and  harassed  than  Miss  Copley. 

As  she  saw  this,  Hope's  eyes  brightened,  her  color 
bloomed, 


234  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Good  morning,  Doctor,"  she  said  blithely. 

"Good  morning."  He  stood  gazing  at  her  from 
under  his  heavy  brows;  the  searching,  comprehensive 
glance  of  the  born  diagnostician. 

"I  was  tired  last  night,  but  I  feel  as  fresh  as  paint 
this  morning."  Her  tone  was  buoyant.  "I  remember 
things." 

His  remarkable  eyes  pierced  her  through  and 
through,  an  inquisition;  but  she  bore  it  unwaveringly. 

At  last  he  forced  a  smile. 

"That's  good,"  he  said  with  an  effort  at  heartiness. 
"What  do  you  remember?" 

"I  remember  going  away  with  that  crazy  man.  He 
told  me  not  to  go  in  to  supper,  to  stay  on  the  porch 
and  wait  for  him.  Then  he  took  my  arm,  and 
ran  down  the  steps  and  jumped  into  the  car.  I 
took  the  chauffeur's  place,  I  don't  know  why.  I 
didn't  know  I  could  drive.  But  I  can,"  delightedly. 
"It's  as  easy  as  that!"  She  turned  her  hand  over. 
"And  I  knew  all  the  roads  as  well  as  if  I'd  been  over 
them  hundreds  of  times." 

He  rubbed  his  chin,  still  studying  her. 

"Did  any  one  stop  you?"  he  asked  so  suddenly,  that 
if  she  had  not  been  on  guard  it  might  have  confused 
her. 

"Yes;  two  men.  They  ran  their  car  in  front  of  us, 
and  one  of  them  came  back.  The  crazy  man  told  me 
to  say,  I  was  Miss  Copley.  I  am,  too;  Verna  Copley. 
But  the  strange  man  thought  I  was  Anita  and  gave  me 


SWALLOWED  UP  235 

a  package.  The  crazy  man  wouldn't  let  me  keep  it. 
He  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  told  me  to  drive  to  the 
shore. 

"Oh,  it  was  fun!  He  said  there  were  people  after 
us,  and  I  mustn't  let  them  get  us.  And  then  we  heard 
some  one  coming,  and  he  told  me  to  turn  off,  and  we 
ran  into  a  tree  and  were  thrown  out.  I  thought  he 
was  dead.  But  a  man  on  a  motor-cycle  came  along, 
and  pulled  him  from  under  the  car,  and  said  he  would 
go  for  a  doctor." 

"Did  the  man  on  the  motor-cycle  ask  you  any 
questions?" 

"Yes;  he  asked  me  if  I  was  hurt." 

"Anything  else?     Sure?"  as  she  shook  her  head. 

"Sure,"  she  answered,  looking  at  him  wonderingly. 

"And  what  happened  then?" 

"The  crazy  man  opened  his  eyes,  and  got  up.  He 
said  we  must  run  to  the  shore,  and  find  a  boat.  But 
I  knew  the  woods  and  the  house,  and  I  wanted  to  stay 
where  we  were.  He  wouldn't  let  me.  He  was  rough 
and  pulled  me  along.  I'm  afraid  of  the  water  at  night, 
and  I  screamed.  Then  he  swore,  and  let  me  go. 
And  I  hid  until  the  men  came  along,  and  brought  me 
home.  I  was  glad,  when  I  saw  you.  I  was  frightened 
out  there  in  the  dark.  He  might  have  come  back  and 
killed  me.  Crazy  people  do." 

"What  makes  you  think  he  is  crazy?" 

She  drew  back,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  cunning, 
superior  smile. 


236  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Any  one  would  know  that.  He  talked  crazy.  He 
said  I  was  some  one  else.  He  didn't  tell  me  who ;  but 
he  said  that  he'd  discovered  things,  and  that  I  must  go 
away  with  him.  He  acted  crazy,  too." 

''You  say,  you  knew  that  old  house?"  Bristow's 
tone  was  casual,  but  very  winning. 

"Yes.  I  wanted  to  go  in  it.  But  he  wouldn't.  He 
called  it  a  trap." 

"Didn't  you  live  there  once?" 

"I  don't  know."  Her  forehead  creased,  as  if  the 
effort  to  recollect  were  painfully  difficult.  "But," 
positively,  "I  do  know  that  house  some  way.  There's 
a  big  attic  full  of  boxes.  It  was  nice  to  play  there. 
Still  I  was  glad  to  get  home.  Only,"  lowering  her 
voice,  and  looking  apprehensively  toward  the  door, 
"she  was  cross.  I  don't  like  her.  I  hate  her.  Why 
don't  you  send  her  away,  and  let  me  stay  with  you?" 

She  came  nearer,  coaxing,  entreating,  her  lips  ador 
ably  pouted. 

"You're  so  wise  and  kind.  I  like  to  be  with  you. 
I  like  to  look  at  you.  You  wear  such  beautiful 
clothes." 

She  stroked  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  as  if  its  touch 
gave  her  a  luxurious  pleasure. 

"And  your  neckties.  That's  the  loveliest  black 
pearl  I  ever  saw."  She  touched  it  with  her  finger, 
and  bent  closer,  so  near  him  that  her  hair  brushed  his 
cheek. 

"You've  seen  others  then?"  he  asked. 


SWALLOWED  UP  237 

"Somewhere."  She  looked  up  at  him,  the  per 
plexed  pucker  once  more  between  her  eyebrows.  "I 
know  them,  I  don't  know  how.  Oh,"  she  caught  his 
hand,  "do  let  me  stay  with  you ;  I'd  be  happy  all  the 
time  then.  But  you'd  have  to  send  her  away."  She 
glanced  once  more  at  the  door,  and  spoke  in  a  whisper 
close  to  his  ear.  "She'd  be  jealous.  She's  in  love 
with  you.  But  you  won't  marry  her,  will  you?  She's 
terribly  common.  And  you're  so  different." 

Bristow's  lips  curved  ironically. 

"Don't  worry  about  that,"  he  said  lightly,  and  yet 
with  a  certain  emphasis. 

He  sat  down,  the  irony  of  his  smile  changing  to  a 
fleeting  indulgence.  He  was  looking  beyond  her, 
seeing  a  new  perspective,  reckoning  other  possibilities, 
calculating  other  chances.  His  eyes  had  the  pre 
occupied,  yet  alert  look  of  one  who  has  stumbled  upon 
a  new  and  better  solution  to  a  laboriously  worked  out 
problem. 

"You  won't  let  that  crazy  man  take  me  away  again?" 
Hope's  magnetic  appealing  voice  broke  in  on  his 
meditations. 

The  recall  from  dreams  was  unpleasant.  "Kelsey?" 
involuntarily,  ugly  lines  marking  his  face.  "No;  I 
will  not." 

"And  I  can  drive  your  car  with  you  soon?"  she 
begged. 

"Eh?  Drive  my  car  with  me ?  I  think  so,  my  dear. 
I  am  very  much  inclined  to  think  so." 


23 8  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Oh!"  She  clasped  her  hands  on  her  breast,  the 
picture  of  happy  expectancy. 

A  glorious  creature !  Bristow's  breath  came  a  little 
faster.  Young,  lovely,  rich.  How  could  he  have  been 
so  blind,  so  obtuse  to  the  possibilities  of  the  situation? 

And  at  this  moment,  Anita  Copley  chose  to  return 
to  the  room. 

She  stood  inside  the  door,  glancing  from  one  to  the 
other,  varying  emotions  depicted  on  her  face.  Sur 
prise.  Suspicion  deepening  to  comprehension.  And 
then  jealous  anger. 

It  seemed  to  stir  a  sardonic  amusement  in  Bristow. 
"Why,  here  is  our  dear  Miss  Copley!"  he  cried.  "Sit 
down,"  offering  her  a  chair.  "I'm  just  leaving!" 

He  paused  by  Hope  and  patted  her  lightly  on  the 
cheek.  "Try  to  love  her,  my  child."  His  eyes,  mirth 
fully  malicious,  were  on  Anita's  darkly  flushing  face. 
"I  know  it's  hard,  but  never  give  up  trying." 

Hope  laughed  gaily,  as  at  some  joke  they  shared  to 
gether,  and  clung  to  his  hand.  He  smilingly  released 
himself  and  left,  without  another  glance  at  Anita. 
Hope  ran  to  the  door  after  him;  but  the  nurse  caught 
her  and  dragged  her  back  with  vicious  force. 

Hope  wriggled  away.  "I'm  going  to  drive  Dr. 
Bristow's  car  with  him,"  she  said  joyously.  "He's 
promised  me." 

Anita  gave  her  a  savage  look,  but  made  no  answer. 

"He  came  to  see  me  this  morning.  You  think  he 
likes  you.  But  he  doesn't;  he  doesn't." 


SWALLOWED  UP  239 

The  woman  wheeled  with  uplifted  hand  and  started 
in  pursuit;  but  Hope  was  too  agile  for  her.  Anita 
stopped,  panting,  her  hand  on  her  chest. 

"You  shut  up,"  she  said  hoarsely.  "I've  heard 
enough  out  of  you." 

"You're  in  love  with  him."  The  girl's  face  was 
elfishly  acute,  as  she  taunted  her  jailer.  She  knew 
that  she  was  going  beyond  the  danger-line,  but  she  took 
that  risk.  The  further  she  could  goad  Anita  the  better. 
"And  he  doesn't  care  that  for  you !"  She  brought  her 
fingers  together  and  then  opened  them,  blowing 
off  an  imaginary  speck.  "He  likes  me!  He  likes 
me!" 

She  kept  up  the  chant  until  Anita's  frayed  self-con 
trol  snapped.  The  nurse  lunged  forward  and  caught 
her  tormentor  by  the  shoulder;  but  Hope  jerked  away 
and  danced  across  the  room,  continuing  her  sing-song. 

"He  likes  me!  He  likes  me  better!  I'm  younger 
and  prettier.  Younger  and !" 

She  made  an  unexpected  rush,  and  propelled  Anita 
toward  the  mirror. 

"Look  at  us!  Look,"  her  chin  on  the  woman's 
shoulder. 

Anita  stood  trance-like  for  an  instant,  enthralled  by 
the  two  faces  so  like  and  yet  so  different,  with  all  the 
terrible  difference  in  Hope's  favor.  It  fascinated 
while  it  seared  her,  burned  into  her  soul. 

And  then  before  the  younger  woman  could  realize 
her  purpose,  she  whirled.  There  was  one  stinging 


240  SWALLOWED  UP 

blow  on  the  cheek  that  sent  Hope  staggering.  Others, 
a  rain  of  them,  followed. 

"Now,  you  crazy  loon!"  in  a  gasping,  threadlike 
snarl.  "Keep  still,  or  I'll  give  you  worse.  Keep  still, 
I  tell  you,"  as  Hope  crouched  and  whimpered.  "I'll 
see  about  this !  I'll  see  about  this."  She  rushed  from 
the  room. 

Hope  caressed  her  bruised  cheek,  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HOBO  Bill  sat  in  what  he  called  the  "parlor" 
of  his  suite  in  the  sanitarium,  an  old  man  in 
a  worn,  velvet  dressing-gown.  A  steamer- 
rug  lay  across  his  shrunken  knees;  his  big,  knotted 
hands  rested  inert  on  the  padded  arms  of  his  chair; 
his  head  was  sunk  forward  on  his  breast.  From  time 
to  time,  his  heavy  lids  lifted  and  his  bleary,  dim-sighted 
eyes  turned  toward  the  clock. 

These  rooms  of  his  in  their  opulent  bad  taste  were 
reminiscent  of  New  York's  vanished  Tenderloin.  A 
crimson  velvet  carpet,  thick  crimson  hangings,  furniture 
upholstered  in  crimson  plush,  the  mahogany  carved  with 
nymphs  and  satyrs.  On  the  walls  in  heavy  gilt  frames 
were  great  twelve  and  fourteen  foot  canvases,  mostly 
studies  of  the  feminine  nude.  Gilt-surrounded  mir 
rors  reflected  the  glaring  whiteness  of  marble  Venuses 
on  red-draped  pedestals.  The  mantel-piece  and  tables 
were  a  jumble  of  signed  photographs;  prize-fighters 
of  the  day  when  Higgins's  Sixth  Avenue  saloon  was 
the  rendezvous  of  the  sporting  world,  famous  race 
horses,  ladies  whose  forgotten  names  were  once  a  toast 
in  the  red-light  district. 

Higgins  amid  his  splendors  was  a  figure  of  old  age 
that  inspired  no  veneration;  his  decrepitude  excited 

241 


242  SWALLOWED  UP 

no  pity.  He  was  like  some  gray,  old  cobra  lurking 
motionless  under  the  red  roses  of  an  Indian  garden, 
sinister,  obscene,  remorseless. 

His  valet  moving  noiselessly  about  the  room  stepped 
to  a  buffet,  and  measuring  out  a  dose  from  a  medicine 
bottle  held  it  to  the  old  man's  lips.  He  gulped  it  down 
automatically,  without  comment  or  any  change  in  his 
position.  His  mind  was  miles  away.  He  was  facing 
a  crisis;  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  perturbation. 
Waiting,  he  betrayed  no  impatience  except  for  that  oc 
casional  glance  at  the  clock. 

At  twenty  minutes  after  three,  Bristow  and  Anita 
Copley  came  in  together.  Their  entrance  was  hurried ; 
and  one  had  only  to  glance  at  them  to  see  that  the 
storm-signals  were  flying.  He  was  calm  enough,  but 
the  grooved  lines  from  nose  to  mouth  deepened  his 
faint,  sarcastic  smile. 

An  ill-suppressed  hysteria  showed  under  Anita's  ef 
forts  at  composure.  Two  scarlet  spots  burned  high 
on  her  cheek-bones.  There  was  a  constant  spasmodic 
movement  of  her  mouth. 

Higgins  peered  at  them  through  his  heavy-lensed 
spectacles. 

"You're  late,"  he  croaked  coldly.  To  his  valet  he 
gave  a  curt  order  :  "Get  out." 

"Sorry,"  Bristow  said,  "but  I  had  to  wait  for  that 
potterer,  Morton.  He  very  seldom  leaves  the  place, 
but  to-day  of  all  days  he  chose  to  depart  on  some  er 
rand  of  his  own,  and  staid  over  two  hours.  The  time 


SWALLOWED  UP  243 

passed  excitingly,  though.  Anita,"  contemptuously, 
"saw  fit  to  become  temperamental." 

She  pulled  at  her  handkerchief  as  if  she  would  tear 
it  to  shreds,  but  shut  her  teeth  and  said  nothing. 

"Humph !"  the  old  man  grunted  uncouthly.  "You 
damn'  fools  don't  understand  that  this  is  no  time  for 
child's  play.  We're  in  a  bad  fix,  I  tell  you.  A  damn' 
bad  fix." 

"I  don't  see  it,"  Bristow  said  coolly.  "We've  got 
the  girl,  and  Kelsey's  very  happily  drowned." 

"Ain't  no  body  been  washed  up  yet,  is  there?" 

"No;  and  there  probably  won't  be  for  several  days. 
If  he  isn't  at  the  bottom  of  the  Bay,  where  is  he?  He 
may  have  wings  now,  but  he  didn't  have  them  last 
night.  The  girl's  story,  the  fact  that  they  were  un 
doubtedly  making  for  the  shore,  his  utter  disappear 
ance  under  a  most  exhaustive  search ;  there  can  be  only 
one  answer." 

"Well,  mebbe,"  Higgins  granted  grudgingly.  "You 
ain't  drawed  off  the  men,  though,  have  you?" 

"Certainly  not.  Every  possible  avenue  to  town  is 
blocked ;  I  don't  believe  even  a  mole  could  burrow 
through.  And  there  isn't  a  brush-pile,  or  culvert,  or 
any  other  hiding-place  within  a  radius  of  twenty  miles 
that  has  been  overlooked.  Not  a  trace  of  him,  though. 
I  tell  you  again,  the  fellow's  at  the  bottom  of  the  Bay." 

"And  our  hundred  thousand  in  Liberty  bonds  along 
with  him,"  mumbled  the  old  man  wryly. 

"We'll  get  that  back."     Bristow   spoke  with  con- 


244  SWALLOWED  UP 

sistent  confidence.  "The  moment  the  body's  recovered, 
I'll  hear  of  it  and  be  on  the  spot.  Don't  think 
that  any  life  guard  or  clam  digger  can  get  away  with 
that  envelope.  If  I  can't  manage  to  lay  hands  on  it 
myself,  I'll  see  that  it's  turned  over  to  the  Coroner. 
I've  already  informed  him,  that  Kelsey  robbed  my  safe 
when  he  made  the  attack  on  me." 

Higgins  considered  this ;  but,  having  neither  ob 
jection  nor  suggestion  to  offer,  turned  to  another  phase 
of  the  situation. 

"How  about  this  cockroach  with  the  motor-cycle?" 
he  demanded.  "What's  he  up  to,  since  he  got  turned 
out  of  the  calaboose?" 

"Saving  his  hide,  I  fancy.  He  knows  enough  to 
have  a  very  wholesome  respect  for  that  message  you 
sent  him.  They  said  he  went  to  pieces  badly,  when  he 
saw  it,  and  he  told  Simonds  that  this  part  of  the  country 
wouldn't  see  him  soon  again.  Why,  the  poor  rat  was 
afraid  even  to  stick  by  the  train.  He  suspected  that 
we  might  have  a  reception  prepared  for  him  in  New 
York,  and  hopped  off  somewhere  along  the  line. 
Bryan  says  he  was  in  a  sweat  all  the  way,  and  that  he 
missed  him  for  good  after  they  reached  Jamaica." 

"We  ought  to  have  bumped  him  off  long  ago," 
Higgins  growled,  "and  been  done  with  it.  You're  too 
chicken-hearted,  Doc." 

"Rot!  The  fellow's  served  our  purpose  in  every 
thing  he's  done.  And  you  know  from  the  report  of 
the  telephone  conversations,  he's  been  holding  back 


SWALLOWED  UP  245 

information  from  Ranger.  As  I  look  at  it,  he's  been 
trying  to  play  a  little  game  of  his  own,  and  pick  up 
a  few  crumbs  for  himself  when  we  made  the  big  haul." 

"Well,  mebbe."  A  disinterested  action  was  beyond 
Higgins's  comprehension.  "I've  sort  of  thought  that 
myself.  Still  it  looks  funny,  his  getting  hooked  up 
with  them  two  last  night." 

"A  mere  coincidence,"  Bristow  insisted.  "He  didn't 
have  and  hasn't  now  any  idea  who  they  were.  Do 
you  suppose  that,  if  he'd  dreamed  the  girl  was  Hope 
Ranger,  he'd  ever  have  gone  chasing  off  for  a  doctor, 
and  left  her  there  alone?  Or  let  Simonds  lock  him 
up  and  keep  him  behind  the  bars  all  night,  and  never 
have  breathed  a  word?" 

Higgins  shook  his  head  unsatisfied.  "I'll  answer 
them  questions,"  scowlingly,  "when  you  tell  me  what 
he  was  doing  on  that  road,  and  what  brung  him  down 
to  this  part  of  the  country  at  all." 

Bristow  pursed  his  mouth.  "The  man's  a  vagabond, 
a  wanderer,  and ' 

"And  just  happened  to  be  ridin'  out  this  way?" 
witheringly.  "That's  too  thin,  Doc,  and  you  know 
it.  You  can't  charge  up  everything  to  this  coincidence 
stuff. 

"Look  at  the  facts  for  yourself,  Doc.  This  snitch  is 
fooling  around  up  in  Westchester,  plumb  at  sea.  Then 
something  happens,  and  he  calls  up  Ranger.  We  know 
that  he  told  him  about  having  been  bamboozled  at  the 
crossing,  and  that  Ranger  come  back  with  the  news  of 


246  SWALLOWED  UP 

the  message  from  us.  But  they  talked  longer  than 
that ;  and  what  was  said,  we  don't  know.  Ranger  was 
careful,  though,  to  see  that  he  had  a  clear  wire;  so  it's 
pretty  sure  that  some  fairly  important  information  was 
passed.  Then  the  next  thing  we  hear  of  this  'El  Paso 
Ed' — no;  'Juarez  Charlie' — he's  down  here  within  five 
miles  of  the  Sanitarium.  I  don't  know  how  you  figure, 
Doc ;  but  it  looks  to  me  like  somebody  had  been  hand 
ing  out  a  pretty  hot  tip." 

Bristow  thought  a  minute. 

"The  whole  point  is  this,"  he  said  finally.  "What 
Juarez  Charlie  may  know  or  suspect  is  immaterial ; 
we  can  take  care  of  him,  if  necessary.  But  what  he 
may  have  told  Ranger  is  another  kettle  of  fish.  I 
hold,  though,  that  every  indication  points  to  his  having 
said  little  or  nothing. 

"If  his  information  amounted  to  a  whoop,"  he 
argued,  "would  he  have  had  to  swindle  the  garage  man 
to  get  some  petty  cash  for  expenses?  If  he  really  had 
learned  anything,  he  must  have  been  holding  out, 
playing  Ranger  for  his  own  ends." 

Hobo  Bill  pondered  this,  thoughtfully  rubbing  his 
great,  protuberant  knuckles. 

"Well,"  he  admitted,  "I  won't  deny  there  ain't  some 
merit  in  that  view  of  it.  But  look  here,  Doc,"  scowl 
ing  again,  as  a  new  angle  of  the  situation  presented 
itself  to  him:  "if  he  didn't  put  Ranger  wise  to  some 
thing,  how  did  that  damn'  private  secretary  come 
to  show  up  here  this  morning,  and  get  him  out?  I 


SWALLOWED  UP  247 

understand  that  Simonds  didn't  let  him  do  no  telephon 
ing." 

"I  was  bothered  over  that,  too,"  Bristow  answered. 
"But  I've  discovered  that  it  came  about  through  some 
friends  of  the  fellow's  who  happened  to  stop  at  the 
Lone  Hill  garage,  and  learned  of  his  predicament. 
He'd  had  one  of  the  women  to  dinner  at  the  Lone 
Hill  Inn.  Bryan  might  have  been  a  mutual  friend, 
and  naturally  she  would  telephone  him." 

"Yes?"  Higgins's  -wheezy  voice  rasped  like  a  file. 
"And,  mebbe,  this  woman  he  had  to  dinner — that'd  be 
just  about  the  time  he  telephoned  to  Ranger — might 
have  mentioned  that  he'd  learn  something  to  his  ad 
vantage  down  to  Bristow's  Sanitarium.  She  couldn't 
have  got  that  from  Bryan ;  he  don't  know  nothing." 

He  flung  himself  forward  on  his  shaky,  old  elbows. 

"Who  was  this  woman  he  had  out  to  dinner?  Who 
was  these  friends  that  helped  him  out  of  the  hole?" 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  Bristow  shortly.  "I  saw 
no  reason  to  shadow  the  man  after  we  took  his  spark 
plugs  and  left  him  stranded  and  done  for  there  at  the 
crossing.  It  was  unfortunate  perhaps ;  but  there's  no 
necessity  to  get  excited  about  it.  No  especial  harm's 
been  done." 

"No  harm  been  done?"  Higgins's  great  hands 
clutched  at  the  arms  of  his  chair.  "No  harm! 
You've  made  a  damn'  muddle  out  of  it.  That's  what's 
been  done.  Here's  that  cheap  grafter  and  that  sissy 
private  secretary  walkin'  around,  with  God  knows 


248  SWALLOWED  UP 

how  much  of  the  truth  in  their  heads — reg'lar  sticks 
of  dannymite,  ready  to  blow  us  to  hell  an'  gone !  Why 
ain't  they  been  croaked  ?  What  do  we  keep  that  bunch 
of  gorillas  up  in  New  York  for,  eating  their  heads  off? 

"And  here's  a  woman,  too!  A  woman,  that  has 
somehow  got  on  to  something,  and  is  letting  her  tongue 
run  loose.  Another  stick  of  dannymite.  An'  her 
bunch  of  friends!  A  whole  automobile  load  of  dan 
nymite.  Who  is  she?  You  don't  know.  Who  are 
they?  You  don't  know.  By  cripes,  you  don't  know 
nothin' ! 

"You  want  to  be  a  Master  Mind!"  He  poured  out 
a  stream  of  obscene  abuse.  "By  God,  you-  ain't  got 
the  brains,  nor  the  guts  to  be  a  small-town  chicken- 
thief.  What  did  you  do,  when  you  ketched  that  Kel- 
sey  gettin'  an  earful  on  you?  If  I'd  'a'  been  here,  he'd 
have  been  jolted  off  so  quick,  'twould  have  made  his 
hair  curl.  Anita  saw  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 
But  you  wouldn't  listen  to  her.  You  was  running 
things.  You  wanted  to  try  an  experiment,  and  handle 
the  matter  on  smoother,  more  scientific  lines.  A  nice 
mess  your  scientific  handling  has  got  us  into.  And 
now  you're  up  to  some  more  of  it,  with  them  damn' 
bonds." 

"I  told  you,"  said  Bristow  icily,  "that  the  Coroner 
understands  that  my  safe  was  robbed." 

"Hell's  bells!  Didn't  you  never  stop  to  think  that 
them  bonds  was  traceable?  Do  you  suppose  that 
Loring  Ranger  didn't  take  the  numbers  on  'em;  or 


SWALLOWED  UP  249 

that  when  he  reads  in  the  papers  about  some  fellow 
being  fished  out  of  Great  South  Bay  with  a  hundred 
thousand  in  Liberty  bonds  on  him,  he  ain't  goin'  to 
make  some  inquiries? 

"Good  God!  You  must  be  hankerin'  to  spend  the 
rest  of  your  life  in  stir.  You  damn'  bonehead! 
You !" 

He  choked,  unable  to  go  on.  His  face  was  purple, 
his  great,  sagging  body  shaking  and  quivering,  his 
arms  beating  on  his  chair. 

Anita  Copley  was  at  his  side.  Bending  over  him, 
she  tried  to  quiet  him.  Bristow  stood  aloof,  white- 
faced  and  very  stiff. 

The  gust  of  fury  subsided  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
arisen.  Higgins,  after  catching  his  breath,  lay  back 
in  his  chair.  The  purple  slowly  receded  from  his  face, 
and  left  it  gray  and  impassive  once  more.  His  hands 
ceased  shaking,  and  again  rested  motionless  on  the 
arms  of  his  chair. 

When  he  spoke  at  last,  it  was  in  his  usual  grating 
monotone;  but  the  settled,  impervious  quiet  of  his 
voice  was  more  alarming  than  his  outburst  of  anger. 

"We  can't  take  no  more  chances,"  he  said.  "We'll 
end  this  Hope  Ranger  job  to-night." 

"You  mean ?"     Anita  Copley  asked  sharply. 

"There  won't  be  no  such-  person  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ONE  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop.  There  was 
dead  silence  in  the  room,  but  it  vibrated  with 
the  clash  of  opposing  wills. 

Anita  Copley  had  drooped  her  lids,  but  the  glitter 
of  her  eyes  showed  beneath  her  lashes.  She  was 
watching  Bristow. 

He  had  not  flinched  during  Higgins's  attack  on  him. 
Disputes  between  them  were  infrequent ;  but  they  had 
occurred  before,  and  he  had  learned  to  steel  himself 
against  these  exhibitions  of  ruffianism. 

But  the  grim  ultimatum  took  him.  unaware.  It  was 
like  a  thunderclap  to  him.  For  a  second  he  felt  like 
crumpling;  then  he  realized  that  his  back  was  against 
the  wall,  and  he  had  to  engage  not  one  but  two  op 
ponents,  for  Anita  would  stand  with  Higgins. 

They  were  waiting  for  him,  Higgins  ready  to  nega 
tive  anything  he  said,  Anita  longing  for  him  to  expos 
tulate,  that  she  might  hare  the  satisfaction  of  deciding 
against  him.  But  even  in  this  pass,  he  took  pleasure 
in  thwarting  them,  in  following  the  opposite  tack  from 
the  one  they  expected. 

"Ah?  Extreme  measures?"  He  spoke  quietly, 
implying  by  his  tone  that  Higgins  had  not  given  a  final 
decree,  but  had  suggested  an  expedient  which  was  open 
for  discussion.  "Well,  if  that  is  the  only  recourse, 

250 


SWALLOWED  UP  251 

i  am  ior  it.  But  to  give  up  without  a  struggle  at  this 
stage,  to  charge  off  so  promising  an  enterprise  as  a  dead 
loss—  " 

"Better  take  a  loss,"  said  Higgins  sententiously, 
"than  a  long  trip  up  the  river." 

"Just  so,"  Bristow  agreed.  "But  isn't  it  better  to 
run  a  chance  of  Sing  Sing,  than  to  risk  the  electric 
chair." 

"Ain't  no  such  chance,"  gruffly;  "not  with  me  run 
ning  the  show." 

The  old  man  was  betraying  irritation  again,  and 
Bristow  shifted  his  sails. 

"Probably  not;  I  didn't  mean  that  seriously.  It's 
the  loss  I'm  thinking  of.  Not  only  of  money,  a  round 
million  at  the  least,  but  of  prestige  and  authority. 

"I  hate  to  cave  in,  I  admit  it;  I  dare  say  my  pride 
is  involved.  And  is  it  wise  to  do  so?  We  must  re 
member  that  this  undertaking  has  required  a  lot  of 
agents.  If  we  acknowledge  defeat  now — and  isn't 
that  what  your  plan  amounts  to? — the  news  will  seep 
out  and  filter  through  the  whole  organization.  Bla 
therskites  like  this  Juarez  Charlie  would  delight  in 
spreading  it.  And  you  know  how  mutinous  these 
crooks  are  at  accepting  control.  Why,  let  even  a  hint 
get  out  that  we  are  less  than  omnipotent,  and —  Bang, 
goes  the  entire  system! 

"I'm  presenting  these  objections,"  he  explained, 
"chiefly  to  clear  up  my  own  mind,  and  get  a  dispas 
sionate  view  of  it  all.  If  there's  no  other  way  out  of 


252  SWALLOWED  UP 

the  dilemma,  of  course  I  agree.  But  it  seems  to  me, 
Alderman,  that  with  that  cool,  far-sighted  brain  of 
yours  to  guide  us,  we  ought  to  scheme  out  something 
that  will  spell  profit  and  not  bankruptcy.  We  don't 
want  to  let  ourselves  be  stampeded,  when  a  little  nerve, 
a  little  luck  and  a  little  ingenuity  might  save  us." 

Higgins's  wrinkled  hand  fumbled  up  to  his  chin. 
He  showed  that  in  spite  of  himself,  Bristow's  argu 
ments  had  given  him  pause  to  think. 

"You  talk  like  you  had  something  a'ready  up  your 
sleeve,"  he  squinted  shrewdly  through  his  glasses. 
"Judgin'  by  recent  performances,  'tain't  probably 
worth  hell  room.  But  I'll  listen.  What's  your  big 
idea,  Doc?  Spring  it." 

Bristow  laughed  deprecatingly.  "You  could  hardly 
dignify  it  by  calling  it  an  idea.  Just  a  suggestion 
that's  been  floating  around  in  my  mind  while  we've 
been  talking.  It's  scarcely  formed  yet.  It  will  take 
you  to  put  it  in  shape,  and  work  out  the  details. 

"But  first,  let's  run  over  the  situation,  and  see  just 
where  we  stand.  As  we  all  know,  up  to  last  night 
everything  was  working  as  smoothly  as  we  could  de 
sire.  Then  comes  this  escape,  and  contingent  upon  it 
and  coincident  with  it,  we  find  ourselves  threatened 
from  half  a  dozen  different  quarters." 

He  checked  them  off  on  his  fingers. 

"Kelsey  and  the  girl?  That's  pretty  well  cleared 
up.  The  one  is  food  for  the  fishes ;  the  other  back  in 
our  hands. 


SWALLOWED  UP  253 

"Juarez  Charlie?"  He  held  up  another  finger. 
"Heading  for  the  West  in  a  panic.  He's  shot  his 
bolt,  and  won't  give  us  any  more  trouble.  Bryan?  I 
don't  even  take  him  into  account.  Let  him  tell  the 
little  he  knows;  no  one  willl  suffer  but  himself. 

"Then  we  have  the  automobile  party  and  the  woman 
Juarez  Charlie  had  to  dinner.  What  that  amounts  to, 
we  can't  tell  until  we  learn  who  they  are,  and  the 
nature  of  the  information,  if  any,  that  they  hold.  I 
will  have  all  that  by  to-morrow ;  but  I'm  positive  that 
we'll  find  them  quite  negligible  factors.  Juarez  Char 
lie  merely  picked  up  something  from  their  talk,  and 
pieced  it  on  to  what  he  already  knew. 

"Last,  but  not  least,  is  the  unfortunate  matter  of  the 
bonds.  There,  I  agree,  lies  our  especial  danger. 
But  it  is  a  wholly  potential  one.  Those  bonds  may 
never  be  recovered.  Time  enough  to  meet  that  emer 
gency  when  they  are.  The  Croner  needs  money," 
cynically;  "he  can  be  fixed.  It's  two  to  one  anyhow, 
that  Ranger  would  never  hear  of  their  recovery;  and 
ten  to  one,  that  he'd  never  connect  them  with  his  van 
ished  ransom. 

"And  that's  all."  He  held  up  his  open  hand,  with 
the  fingers  spread  out.  "Unless  we  admit  the  possi 
bility  of  some  one  building  up  a  cohesive  case  from 
the  chatter  of  Creamer  and  village  gossips ;  and  I  sub 
mit  that  even  the  infallible  detective  of  fiction  would 
find  himself  stumped  there. 

"Now,  where  in  all  this,"  he  asked  persuasively,  "is 


254  SWALLOWED  UP 

the  pressing  exigency  that  is  driving  us  to — er — final 
action?  I  quite  fail  to  see  it.  But  I  do  see  very 
plainly  where  we  are  bound  to  lose  heavily  through 
making  a  ghastly  mistake.  Ranger,  so  long  as  he  be 
lieves  his  daughter  is  alive,  can  be  played ;  but  we  will 
have  to  keep  proving  it  to  him.  He  will  balk  at  the 
two  hundred  thousand  he  is  to  pay  on  Friday,  unless 
we  can  convince  him  that  she  is  still  living.  Worse 
than  that,  we  scrap  our  organization  for " 

"You've  said  all  that  before."  Higgins  was  grow 
ing  restless.  "This  lawyer-talk  of  yours,  with  your 
'whereases'  and  'to-wits,'  ain't  gettin'  us  nowhere.  If 
you've  got  anything  in  youn  system,  more'n  just  rattle, 
for  cripes'  sake,  pull  it." 

"Very  well,  then.  I  will."  Bristow  paused  the 
wink  of  an  eyelash,  and  then  plunged.  "My  idea  is, 
return  Hope  Ranger  to  her  father." 

If  he  had  been  seeking  to  create  a  dramatic  effect, 
he  could  not  have  succeeded  better.  Miss  Copley's 
lowered  lids  shot  up.  She  expelled  her  breath  in  a 
gasp  that  sounded  like  a  hiss.  Higgins  reared  back 
in  his  chair. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  the  old  man  rumbled. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  she  should  be  restored  at 
once.  The  way  would  have  to  be  paved.  But,  if  you 
want  to  play  safe,  and  at  the  same  time  dig  your  fin 
gers  deep  into  Ranger's  bank-roll,  I'm  telling  you  how 
to  do  it." 

"Doc,  you've  gone  dippy,"  Higgins  declared  with 


SWALLOWED  UP  255 

conviction;  "nutty  as  a  March  hare.  What  do  you 
think  ?  That  Ranger  '11  be  so  grateful  for  getting  his 
daughter  back,  that  he's  going  to  forgive  and  forget, 
and  pass  out  a  chunk  of  kale?  Try  it,  and  see. 
When  he  finds  out  what  she's  been  through,  and  what 
a  wreck  you've  made  of  her,  he'll  want  to  strangle 
you." 

"But  he  isn't  going  to  find  her  a  wreck,"  Bristow 
announced. 

"How're  you  goin'  to  help  it?  She's  bughouse, 
ain't  she?" 

"Um-m-m!  She's But  what's  the  use  of  go 
ing  into  medical  explanations?  It's  enough  to  say  that 
she  can  be  cured.  Or,  rather,  that  I  can  cure  her." 

Anita  Copley  made  a  curious  choking  sound  in  her 
throat,  like  the  stifled  cry  of  a  wild  animal. 

Bristow  ignored  it. 

"Suppose  then,"  he  was  talking  directly  to  Higgins, 
"instead  of  working  under  cover,  and  following  our 
original  plan  of  getting  all  we  can  out  of  Ranger,  and 
then  putting  the  girl  out  of  the  way,  we  come  boldly 
into  the  open?  We  notify  him  that  we  have  reason  to 
suspect  his  daughter  is  held  here  as  a  patient.  We 
give  him  and  his  wife  the  opportunity  to  identify  and 
observe  her.  But  we  do  not  let  her  see  or  speak  to 
them.  We  explain  that  the  shock  might  be  disastrous 
in  her  present  condition.  Meanwhile,  we  are  doing 
everything  possible  for  the  girl.  We  enlarge  her 
privileges,  give  her  the  tenderest  care,  distract  her 


256  SWALLOWED  UP 

mind,  buoy  up  her  spirits,  and  eventually  cure  her. 
Don't  you  imagine  that  her  parents  will  be  so  grate 
ful,  that  no  fee  I  could  name  would  seem  exorbitant?' 

"More  than  that,  I  can  easily  convince  them  that 
she  will  require  constant,  trained  supervision  to  pre 
vent  a  recurrence  of  the  neurosis.  Alderman,  we  can 
capitalize  that  girl  into  an  annual  income.  I'll  occupy 
the  position  of  family  friend  and  benefactor,  with  all 
the  business  and  social  opportunities  that  the  term 
implies." 

"All  very  nice,"  Higgins  ran  his  fingers  through 
his  straggling,  gray  hair.  "Got  some  points,  too. 
But  how  the  devil,  Doc,  are  you  ever  going  to  explain 
her  bein'  here,  or  square  this  up  with  your  passin' 
her  off  as  Anita's  sister?" 

"Oh,  that?  He  examined  his  finger-nails.  "Why, 
Anita  will  simply  have  to  disappear.  Go  to  Tokio, 
or  Buenos  Ayres,  or  some  other  charming  place,  and 
enjoy  herself.  Then  we  can  very  plausibly  say,  that 
we  were  imposed  on  by  one  of  our  nurses,  who  intro 
duced  the  dazed  girl  here  as  her  sister.  Our  sus 
picions  became  aroused;  but  before  we  could  question 
the  nurse,  she  got  frightened  and  took  French  leave. 
We  can  frame  up  a  suicide  for  her,  if  it's  necessary. 

The  Copley  woman's  agitation,  which  had  been 
steadily  rising,  suddenly  broke  all  bounds.  She 
flung  herself  forward  to  face  Bristow,  her  features 
contorted,  her  eyes  burning. 

"So    that's    your    beautiful    scheme,    is    it?"     The 


SWALLOWED  UP  257 

low,  restrained  speech  which  she  so  carefully  affected 
gave  way  to  her  natural  coarse  shrillness.  "I'm  to 
be  the  goat,  and  shoulder  all  the  blame,  am  I?  I'm 
to  be  conveniently  shunted  out  of  the  way,  so  that  you 
can  carry  on  your  love-affair?  Well,  not  by  a  damn' 
sight,  Harvey  Bristow! 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me!"  she  swept  on  tempestuously. 
"I'm  not  blind.  I've  been  fooled;  but  I  can  see  plainly 
enough  now  what's  been  going  on  between  you  and 
that  dough  faced  baby-vamp.  Cure  her?  Of  course, 
you  can  cure  her.  There's  never  been  anything  the 
matter  with  her.  She's  only  been  playing  it  under 
your  instructions,  so  as  to  trick  me." 

"That's  likely :  when  you  were  the  one  that  first  in 
sisted  she  was  'off' !"  scoffed  Bristow.  "You  called 
me  a  fool,  when  I  pointed  out  that  she  might  be  only  a 
clever  malingerer." 

"Of  course,  I  did.  You're  smooth,  Harvey.  Do 
you  think  I've  forgotten  all  those  long  lectures  you 
used  to  give  me  about  the  difficulty  of  detecting  the 
difference  between  sham  and  real  symptoms,  and  the 
tests  you  told  me  to  apply?  All  work  of  preparation. 

"Why,  you  scheming  devil,  you  had  this  whole  thing 
in  mind  before  the  girl  was  ever  brought  here.  So 
cial  position  and  a  rich  marriage;  that  was  what  you 
were  aiming  for.  And  you  used  the  Alderman  and 
me  as  pawns,  until  you  could  find  out  whether  she'd 
fall  for  you  or  not.  She  has ;  the  silly  little  fool  can't 
hide  it.  But  you  knew  all  the  time,  that  you'd  have  to 


258  SWALLOWED  UP 

get  rid  of  me;  and  you  stacked  the  cards  to  do  it. 
All  this  muddling!  You  don't  muddle,  Harvey.  This 
escape?  I'll  bet  you  framed  it.  I'll  bet  this  whole 
Kelsey  business  is  a  frame-up.  He  was  your  man. 
You  brought  him  here.  You  two  used  to  have  your 
heads  always  together." 

She  was  firing  her  accusations,  one  after  the  other; 
all  the  rankling,  pent-up  suspicions  she  had  been  har 
boring  since  morning.  Bristow  tried  to  interrupt ;  but 
she  shrieked  him  down.  Her  rage  was  like  a  hot, 
sulphurous  flame. 

"And  now,  with  everything  fixed  as  you  think,  you 
spring  this  plan  to  ship  me  off  to  the  other  side  of  the 
world,  and  make  it  impossible  for  me  ever  to  show  my 
face  again.  That  wasn't  hatched  to-day,  or  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment.  That  was  all  studied  out,  and 
arranged  long  in  advance.  You  thought  that  you 
could  catch  the  Alderman  and  me  with  your  bait  of 
saving  the  organization,  and  getting  a  fresh  chance  at 
Ranger's  money. 

"He's  planned  it  from  the  start,  I  tell  you,  Alderman. 
He  and  that  sneaking  society-chicken  have  worked  it 
out  between  them.  But  you've  overreached  yourself 
this  time,  Harvey.  Never  think  that  you  are  going  to 
marry  Hope  Ranger.  Not  while  I'm  alive." 

She  paused  for  breath,  and  Bristow  seized  the  op 
portunity  to  make  himself  heard.  He  realized  that  it 
was  time.  Higgins  was  looking  at  him  more  and 
more  blackly. 


SWALLOWED  UP  259 

"I  ought  to  order  you  into  a  strait- jacket."  He 
looked  at  her  with  cold  scorn.  "You're  a  candidate 
for  the  violent  ward,  with  your  hysterical  delusions. 
It's  all  too  absurd  to  answer. 

"Alderman,  I  ask  you,"  he  appealed  to  the  old  man, 
"who  was  it  that  first  proposed  this  abduction? 
Whose  idea  was  it?  We  all  remember  the  day  Anita 
came  home  chuckling,  because  a  salesgirl  in  a  shop  had 
mistaken  her  for  Hope  Ranger.  It  flattered  her — a 
piece  of  gutter-mud  passing  for  a  pearl.  She  harped 
on  it,  thought  about  it,  finally  told  us  she  had  a  plan  to 
bag  a  fortune." 

"Yes;  and  you  set  right  to  work  to  see  how  you 
could  turn  my  plan  to  your  own  advantage,  and  do  me 
and  the  Alderman." 

"No,  my  dear;  it  was  you  who  did  that.  Do  you 
think  I  haven't  fathomed  what  is  in  that  warped,  cal 
culating  brain  of  yours?  Loring  Ranger  and  his 
wife,"  significantly,  "might  soon  die — the  weight  of 
grief  and  all  that.  Then  you  could  appear  as  the  miss 
ing  daughter,  and  lay  claim  to  the  estate." 

The  old  man,  scowling  in  his  chair,  had  listened 
keenly  to  their  exchange  of  aspersions.  Now  he 
seemed  to  weary  of  it,  and  leaning  forward,  he  banged 
down  his  fist. 

"Shut  up,  you  two,"  he  ordered.  "We've  had 
enough  of  this.  I'll  settle  what's  to  be  done." 

He  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  reflecting.  For 
perhaps  a  minute  he  pondered,  his  cruel,  evil  face  sag- 


260  SWALLOWED  UP 

ging  down  into  the  folds  of  his  velvet  dressing-gown. 
Then,  with  the  unconscious  gesture  of  a  Caligula,  he 
turned  one  of  his  great  thumbs  down  upon  the  arm  of 
his  chair. 

"You've  figured  a  pretfy  lay-out,  Doc,"  he  wheezed. 
"Worked  it  out  well.  Nothin'  to  it.  Too  risky. 
Ranger'd  investigate  the  thing  down  to  the  ground; 
never  let  up  on  it  till  he  got  to  bed-rock.  And  it 
won't  stand  no  search-light.  You  an'  Anita' ve 
been  keeping  company  too  long;  and  Anita's  got  a 
record. 

"But  I  did  get  one  idea  out  of  all  that  harangue  of 
yours;  that'n  about  Anita  disappearin'.  We'll  use 
that.  Now  don't  start  nothin' !"  as  the  Copley  woman 
whirled  on  him.  "You  don't  get  me  yet. 

"What  you'll  do,  Anita,"  he  laid  down  his  direc 
tions,  "is  dress  the  Ranger  girl  in  your  nurse's  clothes 
— everything,  mind  you,  shoes,  stockings  and  all;— 
while  you  get  into  hers,  and  take  her  place.  Then 
she,  passing  off  as  you,  will  go  out  to-night  on  an  auto 
mobile  ride,  and  have  a  fatal  accident,  all  smashed  up 
beyond  hope  of  recognition.  Anita  Copley  will  be 
dead,  and  Verna  Copley,  the  crazy  sister,  will  be  left 
on  our  hands,  with  no  relatives  to  look  after  her. 
We'll  get  in  a  new  nurse  that  don't  know  neither  of 
you  to  take  care  of  her;  but  of  course  we  can't  keep  a 
dependent  girl  in  an  expensive  joint  like  this.  And 
so  in  a  day  or  two,  we  ship  her  off  to  a  public  asylum, 
where  she — that  is,  you — can  get  well  as  soon  as  you 


SWALLOWED  UP  261 

please.  Then  let  Loring  Ranger,  or  anybody  else 
come  snooping  around  here,  if  they  want  to.  There 
ain't  nothin'  to  be  found  out." 

She  considered  his  proposal,  eyeing  him  doubtfully; 
and  then  nodded  her  assent. 

"I'll  take  it  on,"  she  said;  "but,  if  you  two  are 
double-crossing  me,  God  help  you." 

"There's  only  one  point  that  bothers  me,"  Higgins 
debated.  "How're  we  going  to  get  this  girl  out  to  the 
automobile,  so  it  looks  like  she  goes  willingly,  and  of 
her  own  accord?" 

"Oh,  I'll  fix  that!"  the  woman  promised.  "I'll  tell 
her  she's  going  to  drive  with  Dr.  Bristow."  She 
threw  him  a  glance  venomously  triumphant.  "She'll 
go  like  a  lamb." 

"Then  I'm  to  be  her  escort?"  Bristow  asked  bitterly. 
He  knew  that  he  was  defeated. 

Higgins  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  of  wintry  deri 
sion. 

"No;  I  guess  we'll  leave  you  out  of  this,  Doc.  We 
can't  afford  to  have  no  mistakes  made.  I'll  go  along 
with  the  little  lady  myself.  Kind  o'  bad  for  my 
rheumatism  to  have  to  lay  there  in  the  road,  when  the 
car  goes  off  the  bridge ;  but  I  don't  see  no  other  way. 

"No,"  he  repeated;  "we'll  leave  you  out  of  this. 
We  won't  even  ask  you  to  give  her  the  dope  that  fin 
ishes  her.  Anita  can  'tend  to  that." 

The  Superintendent  straightened  up  as  if  to  defy  this 
show  of  authority.  For  a  long  minute  he  and  Hig- 


262  SWALLOWED  UP 

gins  faced  each  other.  Then,  overturning  a  chair  as 
he  went,  he  left  the  room. 

As  he  flung  out  of  the  door,  he  collided  with  Morton 
who  was  crouching  at  the  key-hole. 

With  one  hand  he  caught  the  house  physician  by  the 
throat,  choking  off  even  a  sound  from  him.  With  the 
other  hand,  he  closed  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

PUSHED  backward  from  the  door,  still  with 
that  constraining  clutch  on  his  throat,  Morton's 
popping  eyes  were  fixed  on  Bristow's  face. 
His  amazement  was  even  greater  than  his  fright. 

But  there  was  a  quality  in  this  summary  and  violent 
capture  which  prevented  him  from  following  his  primi 
tive  impulse  to  struggle  and  kick.  The  hand  that 
choked  him  seemed  also  to  hold  him  up.  Bristow  was 
pale  and  certainly  determined,  but  there  was  nothing 
of  the  hot  anger  that  his  action  would  indicate.  On 
the  contrary,  he  conveyed  to  Morton  by  some  electric 
telepathy  that  his  assault  was  necessary  and  entirely 
friendly. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  he  released  his  victim  with 
a  low,  "Sh !"  his  finger  laid  against  his  lips,  and  giving 
the  house  physician  a  moment  to  gain  his  breath,  threw 
an  arm  about  his  shoulder,  and  led  him,  stumbling 
and  still  purple  and"  gasping,  down  the  steps  to  the  office: 

Morton  weaved  his  way  to  a  chair  and  flopped  down^ 
making  strange  noises  in  his  throat  and  stretching  his 
neck.  He  looked  vaguely,  desolately  about  the  room, 
and  down  at  his  own  person  as  if  to  convince  himself 
that  this  was  really  he,  and  these  were  truly  familiar 
surroundings. 

I,t  had  taken;  all  his  courage,  a  temerity  that  he.  f.ejt. 


264  SWALLOWED  UP 

was  almost  beyond  his  powers,  to  listen  at  Higgins's 
door.  The  interview  with  Charlie  and  Kelsey  had 
been  so  astounding,  their  revelations  so  upsetting  to  his 
belief  in  Bristow,  that  it  had  required  long  and  patient 
effort  on  their  part  to  convince  him  of  the  truth  of 
their  statements,  and  induce  him  to  undertake  the  task 
they  had  assigned  him. 

Morally,  on  the  proof  they  gave  him,  he  could  not 
refuse  to  accept  it ;  and  yet  he  shrank  from  it  with  all 
his  trouble-abhorring  soul.  He  was  spiritually  scrupu 
lous  and  fastidious,  and  to  play  the  spy  was  revolting 
to  him. 

Then  to  be  caught,  to  endure  a  cyclonic  personal 
attack  and  have  the  breath  choked  out  of  him!  This 
climax  of  failure  and  ignominy  reduced  Morton  to 
pulp.  It  was  more  than  his  retiring,  timid  nature  could 
bear.  And  yet  as  he  sat  rallying  his  scattered  senses, 
he  became  still  more  aware  that  Bristow  was  not  only 
unhostile,  but  even  placating. 

"A  thousand  apologies,  old  man.  I  hope  I  didn't 
bruise  your  neck,  or  jar  you  too  much.  But  you  can 
thank  your  stars,  that  it  was  I  who  ran  into  you,  and 
not  one  of  Higgins's  men." 

Bristow  stood  on  the  hearth-rug,  straightening  out 
his  cuffs,  and  surveyed  Morton  reflectively.  The 
little  man  was  not  sure  yet  whether  he  had  been  as 
lucky  as  his  chief  pointed  out.  In  the  reaction  from 
his  complete  trust  in  Bristow  to  the  horror  and  suspi 
cion  which  Kelsey's  disclosures  had  aroused  in  him, 


SWALLOWED  UP  265 

he  was  disinclined  to  believe  anything  the  man  said; 
so  he  sat  mute,  twisting  his  head  about  and  feeling 
his  larynx  with  tentative  fingers.  Bristow  read  his 
thoughts  as  easily  as  he  did  most  things. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me,  Morton,"  he  said 
earnestly.  "I'm  only  too  grateful  to  you,  too  utterly 
grateful." 

A  shattered  faith  is  not  easily  restored.  Still,  Mor 
ton  remembered,  Bristow  had  fought  to  save  the  girl, 
although  this  merit  was  counterbalanced  in  his  mind 
by  Miss  Copley's  accusations.  If  these  held  a  grain 
of  truth,  the  superintendent's  plans  were  only  a  little 
less  sinister  than  hers  and  Higgins's. 

"How  much  of  the  conversation  up  there  did  you 
overhear?"  Bristow  asked,  without  betraying  too 
much  interest. 

"A — a  good  deal  of  it,"  Morton  stammered. 
"Enough  to  know  that  you  were  against  them." 

Bristow  rubbed  his  hands.  He  knew  his  own  skill 
in  presenting  a  case,  his  power  of  influencing  judgment 
and  making  black  glisten  as  white,  and  he  did  not 
doubt  that  he  would  bring  Morton  around  ultimately. 
But  the  fellow  was  slow  and  obstinate,  and  he  couldn't 
afford  to  spend  much  time  in  argument. 

"Suppose,"  he  said,  "before  we  go  deeply  into  this 
matter,  you  tell  me  just  what  you  were  doing  up  there? 
Listening,  of  course.  But  why?" 

Morton  twiddled  his  thumbs,  and  looked  confused. 
He  was  no  strategist,  not  his  the  verbal  fluency  to 


266  SWALLOWED  UP 

cloak  and  veil  the  truth  effectively  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment. 

"I  have  felt  for  some  days  that  there  was  something 
wrong  in  the  matter  of  this  girl.  I — I  read  the  papers. 
I  suspected." 

Bristow  waved  his  hand,  and  smiled  commiserat- 
ingly. 

"Don't  go  on  trying  to  invent.  You're  not  adroit 
enough.  You'd  be  helping  that  girl  far  more  by  tell 
ing  me  the  facts  now.  Time  is  flying,  and " 

Morton  jumped. 

"Time?  That's  it,"  he  said.  "I  must  go.  Don't 
try  to  keep  me  here,  Doctor.  I  must  go  before 

they "  He  stopped,  looking  apprehensively  at  the 

door. 

"No  need  of  haste,"  Bristow  returned  equably. 
"There'll  be  nothing  done  for  two  or  three  hours  yet." 
He  raised  his  eyes  to  indicate  that  he  was  referring  to 
the  two  on  the  floor  above.  "However,  to  be  quite 
safe He  pressed  a  button. 

His  ring  was  answered  almost  immediately. 

"Let  me  know  if  Mr.  Higgins  comes  downstairs,, 
or  if  he  orders  his  car,"  he  said..  "I;  want  to  speaH 
to  him  before  he  goes  out." 

"Yes,  sir."     The  man;  withdrew. 

"Now,  Morton,!'  speaking  with  a  sort  of  jocular 
command;  "out  with  it."  Then  more  seriously: 
"You  must  have  heard  enough  to  realize  that  I  stand 
with  the.  person  or  persons  \yho  are  trying  to  rescue 


SWALLOWED  UP  267 

Miss  Ranger.  Who  are  these  people  that  you  were  in 
conference  with  during  the  two  hours  that  you  were 
away  this  noon  ?" 

Morton  bit  his  lip,  revolving  in  his  puzzled  brain 
what  kind  of  an  answer  to  make. 

''Was  it  Ranger?"  probed  Bristow.  "Or  his  law 
yer,  or  a  detective?  I  hardly  think  so.  They  would 
have  been  here  before  now,  on  what  you  were  able  to 
tell  them." 

Morton,  scrunched  up  in  his  chair,  half-yielding  to 
Bristovv's  influence  and  yet  mindful  of  his  promise 
to  Kelsey,  shook  his  head. 

"My  dear  Doctor,"  Bristow  threw  all  the  weight  of 
his  powerful  personality  into  the  words,  "this  is  no 
time  to  keep  up  an  unjustifiable  silence.  You  are  tak 
ing  a  responsibility  on  yourself  in  doing  so,  that  you 
will  bitterly  regret  later.  The  prime  necessity  now  is 
to  think  and  act  quickly.  How  can  you  doubt  me 
after  what  you  have  heard?  We — your  friends 
outside,  and  you  and  myself  inside — must  act  in 
concert,  and  soon,  very  soon." 

From  the  moment  that  he  had  surprised  Morton  at 
his  eavesdropping,  Bristow  had  grasped  the  full  im 
port  of  his  subordinate's  action  and  the  imminence  of 
his  own  danger.  And  since  then  his  mind  had  been 
busy  contriving  a  story  that  would  meet  the  facts  and 
yet  supply  him  with  an  unassailable  defense.  He  wel 
comed  this  opportunity  of  testing  it  on  Morton. 

"Let  me  explain  my  position;  it  may  serve  to  clear 


268  SWALLOWED  UP 

up  your  mind."  He  spoke  slowly,  choosing  his  words. 
"Morton,  as  God  is  my  judge,  I  knew  nothing  of  this 
terrible  affair  until  last  night,  after  I  failed  to  find 
Kelsey.  Then  Higgins  and  Miss  Copley  thought  it 
best  to  take  me  into  their  confidence.  It  was  a  thun 
derclap  to  me.  Up  to  that  time  I  never  questioned 
but  that  the  girl  was  Miss  Copley's  sister.  There  was 
no  reason  to  doubt  it;  the  likeness  alone  would  con 
vince  anybody. 

"I  thought  at  first  Higgins  and  Copley  had  gone 
insane  themselves.  In  fact,  I  didn't  know  what  to  be 
lieve,  how  to  act.  This  morning,  if  I  had  followed  my 
impulse,  I  would  have  telephoned  the  girl's  father  at 
once.  But  I  did  not  do  this  for  several  reasons.  In 
the  first  place,  I  felt  sure  that  Miss  Ranger  would  be  in 
her  home  by  this  evening ;  at  that  time  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  in  a  position  to  dictate  to  those  two  upstairs, 
and  I  expected,  foolishly  enough,  to  make  them  see 
reason.  I  showed  them  this  leniency  because  Higgins 
is  the  financier  of  this  hospital,  and  holds  my  notes  for 
large  amounts.  Again,  I  argued,  sentimentally  per 
haps,  Loring  Ranger  would  be  so  rejoiced  at  the  recov 
ery  of  his  daughter,  that  he  would  be  willing  to  agree 
to  a  measure  of  immunity,  which  would  at  least  keep 
the  identity  of  the  sanitarium  from  the  public.  He 
could  hardly  allow  me  to  suffer,  I  reasoned ;  since  the 
moment  I  learned  of  the  situation,  I  took  steps  to  end  it. 

"Therefore,  I  went  to  the  meeting  this  afternoon  in 
complete  confidence.  Well,"  with  a  shrug,  "you  know 


SWALLOWED  UP  269 

the  result.  You  must,"  with  affected  sheepishness, 
"have  thought  me  quite  melodramatic.  But  in  dealing 
with  Higgins,  I  have  learned,  one  has  to  talk  his  lan 
guage.  He  thinks  in  plots,  and  suspects  any  motive 
that  is  not  selfish  and  mercenary.  So,  in  order  to  get 
his  ear  at  all,  I  had  to  present  a  crafty  scheme  of 
worming  myself  into  Ranger's  good  graces.  All  bunk, 
of  course." 

"But  you're  the  Superintendent  here,"  Morton  said 
with  unlooked  for  vigor.  "It  seems  to  me  that  all  you 
had  to  do  was  send  for  Miss  Ranger  and  drive  her 
home." 

"Looks  so,  doesn't  it?"  Bristow  smiled  ironically. 
"But  you  don't  know  all  the  wheels  within  wheels  here, 
you  little  recluse.  Frankly,  I  don't  dare  oppose  Hig 
gins  openly.  It  would  spell  my  financial  and  profes 
sional  ruin;  it  might  even  mean  more.  The  man  is  a 
power." 

Morton  was  more  bewildered  than  ever.  Bristow's 
story  impressed  him.  The  old  habit  of  faith  was  re 
turning.  Still,  his  promise  to  Kelsey?  But  if  Kelsey 
knew  that  Bristow  was  with  them,  he  would  surely  be 
glad  of  his  aid. 

"The  people  I  saw  to-day" — some  force  stronger 
than  himself  seemed  drawing  the  words  from  him — 
"were  Dr.  Kelsey  and  a  man  who  called  himself  Juarez 
Charlie." 

"Kelsey?  Alive?  And  Juarez  Charlie?"  Bris 
tow's  fictitious  thunderbolt  had  really  fallen.  "Mor- 


27o  SWALLOWED  UP 

ton,  what  are  you  telling  me?  Kelsey  and  Juarez 
Charlie?  Together?  Impossible." 

He  scraped  his  chair  back  on  the  polished  floor. 

"Where  are  they?"  still  challenging  the  statement. 

"At  the  old  Rose  house." 

Morton  had  told  everything  now  that  he  had  sworn 
not  to  reveal,  and  he  was  agonizedly  wondering 
whether  he  had  been  wise  or  merely  treacherous. 

A  slow,  crestfallen  flush  spread  over  Bristow's  face. 
Higgins  was  right ;  he  had  muddled.  He  should  never 
have  abandoned  the  search  of  that  house  the  night  be 
fore.  Creamer's  information  was  good.  And  he  had 
let  the  girl  sidetrack  him. 

It  broke  upon  him,  a  white  light  of  instantaneous 
comprehension ;  she  had  been  fooling  him  right  along. 
Another  thunderbolt.  She  was  sane,  the  hussy.  The 
clever,  resourceful  hussy!  Playing  the  advanced  neu 
rotic  well  enough  to  deceive  his  trained  observation. 

He  cut  short  these  galling  reflections,  and  turned  ab 
ruptly  to  the  business  in  hand. 

"And  you  are  their  inside  man?  I  see."  He  nodded 
at  Morton.  "When  do  you  get  in  touch  with  them 
again?" 

"I  ought  to  be  doing  it  now." 

Bristow  ignored  the  hint  of  restlessness. 

"How  did  Juarez  Charlie  happen  to  be  there  ?"  He 
wanted  all  the  links  in  the  chain. 

"I  don't  know  that ;  but  he  was.  And  they  have 
plenty  of  money.  Oh,  come  to  think  of  it,  he  said  that 


SWALLOWED  UP  271 

he  rode  down  here  last  night.  There  was  something 
about  a  hat — a  hat  that  had  been  bought  by  Mr.  Ran 
ger  and  then  exchanged  by  Miss  Copley  for  one  that 
was  to  be  sent  here.  That  gave  him  the  clue." 

"Ah-h!"  Bristow  leaned  back  gloating,  with  re 
stored  complacency.  The  responsibility  for  the  mud 
dle  was  shifted  from  his  shoulders  to  Anita's. 

He  paced  back  and  forth  across  the  hearthrug  deep 
in  thought. 

"To  think  of  it!"  he  said  musingly.  "For  the  last 
year,  Morton,  as  I  discovered  last  night,  Higgins  and 
that  woman  have  been  working  over  their  scheme. 
They  started  with  Anita's  likeness  to  Hope  Ranger 
which  she  discovered  by  chance,  and  worked  it  out  step 
by  step  in  the  minutest  detail.  But  they  didn't  stop 
there ;  they  spent  months  in  testing  it,  trying  to  find  its 
weak  spots  and  strengthen  them.  No  engineer  ever 
worked  more  carefully  over  his  plans  for  a  big  bridge; 
no  inventor  over  some  revolutionary  invention.  Every 
contingency  that  might  arise  was  considered  and  pro 
vided  for.  As  a  piece  of  mechanism  it  was  faultless. 
But  like  all  things  that  involve  the  human  element,  it 
was  subject  to  human  vagaries.  One  misplaced  fuse, 
and  the  whole  contrivance  was  short-circuited. 

"In  this  case,  a  woman,  for  the  sake  of  saving  a  few 
pennies,  exchanges  a  freak  hat ;  and  the  skies  fall. 
Morton,  I  become  fatalistic." 

He  stood  in  contemplation,  his  elbow  on  the  mantel 
piece.  If  he  allowed  Morton  to  get  in  touch  with  Kel- 


272  SWALLOWED  UP 

sey  and  Charlie,  and  they  aided  in  the  affair,  there 
would  be  very  little  credit  allotted  to  him  and  a  great 
deal  of  suspicion.  But  if  he,  acting  alone,  could  fore 
stall  these  others  and  restore  the  girl  to  her  parents,  he 
could  stipulate  that  neither  his  name  nor  that  of  his 
hospital  should  be  made  public,  and  any  disparaging 
insinuations  made  against  him  by  Charlie  or  Kelsey 
would  seem  inspired  by  chagrin.  With  all  regard  for 
their  good  intentions,  there  was  just  one  fact  that 
wrould  loom  large  in  the  minds  of  the  Rangers.  He  had 
returned  the  girl. 

But  the  girl  herself — sane  throughout  these  weeks 
of  detention?  What  would  be  her  story?  H'm! 
Something  of  a  facer. 

Still  he  would  have  two  or  three  hours  during  the 
drive  to  town  to  exercise  his  magnetism,  his  plausi 
bility,  his  arts  of  persuasion.  Would  it  be  so  hard  a 
task  to  convince  her?  She  had  turned  to  him  that 
morning.  He  glanced  up  into  the  mirror  over  the  fire 
place.  Her  na'ive  admiration  had  not  been  all  play  act 
ing. 

His  vanity  decided  the  question  for  him. 

Rapidly  he  mapped  out  a  plan  of  action.  Higgins 
would  probably  not  start  on  his  drive  until  after  dark. 
That  disposed  of  him.  Kelsey  and  Charlie  would 
wait  at  the  old  .house  to  hear  from  Morton.  But 
Anita?  How  eliminate  her? 

He  looked  down  at  Morton. 

"Doctor,  we  must  get  Miss  Ranger  away  at  once. 


SWALLOWED  UP  273 

We  will  drive  by  the  Rose  place  and  pick  up  Kelsey 
and  his  friend  on  our  way  to  town.  What  we  have  to 
meet  now  is  the  chance  of  interference  by  Miss  Cop 
ley.  Is  there  any  one  of  the  patients  in  a  particularly 
bad  way  to-day?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Morton ;  "I've  had  to  go  twice  to  quiet 
Miss  Susy  Doane." 

"Then  call  up  Higgins's  apartment,  and  ask  Miss 
Copley  to  relieve  the  nurse  in  charge  until  six  o'clock. 
Make  it  a  request  from  yourself.  Tell  her  you  have 
tried  to  reach  me,  but  couldn't  find  me." 

Morton  complied.  "She  said  she  would  take  charge 
at  once,"  he  reported,  as  he  replaced  the  instrument  on 
the  table. 

"Then  let's  be  moving."  Bristow  motioned  him  to 
ward  the  door. 

They  were  in  a  small  inner  room  of  the  Superin 
tendent's  suite.  There  were  no  windows,  only  a  sky 
light.  As  Morton  turned  his  back,  Bristow  was  on 
him,  pinning  his  arms  down  and  pushing  him  toward  a 
closet. 

Morton  struggled  frantically  to  free  himself,  but 
Bristow  had  all  the  advantage.  He  shoved  him 
roughly  into  the  closet  and  closed  the  door,  locking  it. 

"Now,"  he  said,  breathing  a  little  hard,  "communi 
cate  with  Kelsey,  if  you  can.  Oh,  kick  and  yell  all 
you  please;  nobody  will  hear  you." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

TEN  minutes  later  Bristow  unlocked  the  door  of 
Hope's  room,  knocked,  and  without  waiting 
for  an  answer  came  in  quickly. 

She  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  as 
she  saw  him  she  smiled — a  smile  which  he  interpreted 
as  a  welcome.  It  was  in  a  measure ;  any  one  was  better 
than  Anita  Copley-.  Then  her  eyes  fell  on  the  bun 
dle  he  was  carrying,  and  she  looked  at  him  question- 
ingly. 

He  tdssed  it  on  a  chair.  "For  you,"  he  said;  and 
coming  nearer,  took  both  her  cold  hands  in  his. 

There  was  something  new  in  his  manner,  an  ab 
sence  of  pose,  a  gravity  and  forcefulness  which  she 
was  quick  to  feel. 

"Don't  keep  up  any  pretenses  with  me,  Miss  Ranger. 
It  isn't  necessary  now.  I —  No,  don't  take  it  that 
way,"  as  she  dragged  her  hands  from  his  and  looked  at 
him  with  dilating  eyes.  "Wait.  I'm  your  friend. 
Your  only  one  here. 

"Until  last  night,"  he  went  on,  "I  believed,  truly  be 
lieved,  that  you  were  Miss  Copley's  sister.  After  you 
escaped,  she  and  Higgins  confessed  their  whole  dam 
nable  plot  to  me.  But  I  did  not  understand  then,  nor 
do  they  now,  that  you  are  and  have  been  perfectly 
sane.  I  only  discovered  that  this  afternoon." 

274 


SWALLOWED  UP  275 

He  was  so  manifestly  sincere,  so  obviously  speaking 
from  a  definite  knowledge,  that  she  was  unable  to 
doubt  him.  A  terrible  apprehension  gripped  her  heart. 

"How  did  you  learn  this  ?"     Her  voice  was  a  thread. 

"Through  Kelsey,"  he  answered. 

She  moaned  and  dropped  her  head  in  her  hands. 
They  had  Kelsey  then?  Everything — the  escape,  her 
sacrifice,  his  plans  and  her  own — had  all  been  useless. 

"Where  is  George  Kelsey?" 

"At  liberty.  Quite  safe.  Still  at  the  old  house,  for 
all  I  know.  I  have  not  seen  him.  I  got  all  this  from 
Morton,  who  has  been  in  communication  with  him. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  took  her  hands  again,  and  spoke 
with  imperative  tenderness,  "won't  you  trust  me?  I 
am  going  to  take  you  back  to  your  home.  But  we 
must  act  quickly.  You  see  that  nurse's  outfit?"  He 
pointed  to  the  bundle.  "I  want  you  to  put  it  on  at 
once.  Try  to  look  as  much  like  Miss  Copley  as  pos 
sible."  He  was  borrowing  Higgins's  idea.  "Fix 
your  hair  the  same  way.  Then  come  out.  I  will  be 
waiting  for  you. 

"Don't  waste  time  in  doubting  me,"  as  she  hesitated. 
"I  would  give  my  life  to  undo  all  this.  But  I  tell 
you  frankly  you  are  in  great  danger  from  Copley  and 
Higgins." 

He  had  never  been  more  impressive,  and  while  she 
longed  to  believe  in  his  assurance  of  Kelsey's  freedom 
and  his  own  desire  to  aid  her,  her  instinctive  distrust 
of  him  was  too  strong  to  be  easily  uprooted. 


276  SWALLOWED  UP 

"I  am  going  downstairs  now,"  he  said,  "to  order 
my  car.  I'll  be  back  immediately,  so  hurry." 

"But  if  she  comes?" 

"She  will  not,"  emphatically.  "I  have  arranged  for 
that." 

"But  if  she  does?" 

"Then  it's  up  to  me."  A  flash  in  his  eyes  gave  Hope 
a  more  heartening  sense  of  the  honesty  of  his  inten 
tions  than  any  words  he  had  spoken. 

The  moment  he  was  out  of  the  room  she  began  to 
change  into  the  garments  he  had  brought.  He  might 
be  lying  to  her,  it  might  be  only  some  new  and  crueler 
trick  than  any  they  had  played  on  her;  but  in  a  choice 
of  evils,  she  would  rather  follow  his  lead  than  remain 
in  the  sanitarium  at  the  mercy  of  Anita. 

She  had  finished,  and  was  just  putting  on  her 
nurse's  bonnet  and  cape,  when  he  tapped  again  and 
entered. 

"Good  girl !"  he  said  approvingly,  and  even  in  his 
haste,  admiringly.  "The  car  will  be  waiting. 
Come." 

They  had  turned  to  the  door  when  it  flew  open,  and 
Anita  faced  them. 

Darkly  flaming,  she  slammed  the  door  behind  her, 
and  stood,  her  venemous  glances  darting  from  one  to 
the  other,  to  fasten  at  last  on  Bristow. 

"Got    ahead    of    me,    didn't    you?"    she    jeered. 

"Thought  you  could  switch  me  off,  and  that  I'd 
stay  nice  and  quiet  while  you  two  drove  away  in  state  ? 


SWALLOWED  UP  277 

Not  much.  I  knew  you'd  be  up  to  something,  and  it 
didn't  take  me  long  to  guess  what." 

His  anger  was  white  hot,  but  he  did  his  best  to  con 
trol  it. 

"Let  me  remind  you,  Miss  Copley,"  icily  severe, 
"that  you  should  be  on  duty  elsewhere.  You'll  take 
my  orders  now,  and  return  to  your  post." 

"Oh,  indeed?"  she  flaunted  her  sneers.  "I  wonder 
what  the  Alderman  will  have  to  say  to  that?" 

He  looked  at  her,  a  cat-like  gleam  in  his  narrowed 
eyes. 

"I  think  the  Alderman  will  probably  have  a  good 
deal  to  say  when  he  learns  that  it  is  you  who  are  re 
sponsible  for  his  plans  going  wild.  I  have  dis 
covered—  drawling  slightly  to  tantalize  her — "I 
have  discovered,  just  how  Juarez  Charlie  got  his  tip 
that  Miss  Ranger  was  in  this  sanitarium." 

"You  have?"  She  tossed  her  head  to  cover  a  vague 
uneasiness  aroused  by  his  manner. 

"Just  that."  He  inclined  his  head  slowly. 
"Through  a  small  oversight,  or,  shall  we  say,  inexcus 
able  carelessness — most  likely  from  feminine  motives 
of  economy — a  hat  in  which  I  understand  a  photograph 
of  Miss  Ranger  was  taken,  was  exchanged  for  an 
other  to  be  sent  to  you  at  this  address — a  direct  clue 
not  to  be  perverted  or  misproved  in  any  possible  way." 

Anita  tottered  and  for  an  instant  closed  her  eyes. 
She  saw  the  ground  all  at  once  cut  from  under  her 
feet.  She  would  have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  whole 


278  SWALLOWED  UP 

fiasco.  She  thought  of  Higgins,  his  ruthlessness,  his 
brutal  implacability.  And  Bristow  was  moving  to 
save  himself,  ready  to  gather  the  credit  and  applause  of 
the  hero.  They  would  both  pass  the  buck  to  her  with 
out  a  qualm. 

She  took  swift  stock  of  the  situation.  In  the  light 
of  this  new  development,  Higgins's  scheme — anything 
but  the  return  of  the  girl — was  out  of  the  question. 
They  were  all  in  the  deep  water  now,  and  it  was  every 
one  for  himself.  Still  she  had  a  claim  on  Bristow;  he 
would  have  to  give  her  a  helping  hand. 

Her  whole  bearing  and  expression  altered.  With 
the  hot  iron  of  necessity  she  seemed  to  have  smoothed 
out  every  wrinkle  of  passion.  She  stood  before  him, 
her  superior,  the  respectful,  composed  nurse. 

"You're  right,  Dr.  Bristow.  I  forgot  myself.  I 
apologize.  But  I  don't  believe  you  want  me  to  go 
back  on  duty  or  even  remain  in  the  hospital  under  the 
circumstances. 

"If  you  will  pay  me  what  you  owe  me,"  with  a 
glance  that  Bristow  rightly  interpreted  as  meaning  that 
she  demanded  a  heavy  stake,  "I  will  leave  at  once." 

His  lip  drew  back  showing  the  edge  of  his  teeth,  his 
eyebrows  peaked  above  unrelenting  eyes. 

"You  are  asking  me  to  assist  in  your  escape — the 
nurse  who  fooled  me  into  believing  Miss  Ranger  to  be 
her  sister,  who  has  imposed  this  perhaps  ineffaceable 
blot  on  my  hospital?"  He  spoke  with  virtuous  indig 
nation.  "And  another  reason  for  refusing  to  let  you 


SWALLOWED  UP  279 

go.  You  will  recall,  Miss  Copley,  that  after  I  learned 
of  this  unspeakable  affair,  my  one  thought  was  to  avert 
a  scandal.  I  was  still  lenient  or  weak  enough  to  try 
to  make  Higgins  and  yourself  listen  to  reason  instead 
of  turning  you  over  to  the  police  as  I  should  have 
done;  and  you  both  defied  me." 

She  took  all  this  as  mere  preamble.  He  was  talking 
for  effect,  showing  her  the  line  he  meant  to  follow  and 
strengthening  his  position  with  the  girl  at  the  same 
time.  The  sooner  she  took  her  cue,  the  sooner  she 
would  accomplish  her  purpose.  She  did  not  think  fur 
ther  than  that.  Her  jealousy,  for  the  moment  at  least, 
was  in  abeyance  to  her  desperate  impulse  of  self  pres 
ervation. 

"I  know.  I  know,  Doctor.  But  you  don't  alto 
gether  understand.  I  have  been  a  tool,  an  unwilling 
tool — a  tool  of  Higgins.  And  you  don't  want  any 
notoriety  for  your  hospital.  It  wouldn't  help  Miss 
Ranger.  But  if  I  were  to  disappear,  and  I  can  do  it, 
it  would  save  you  both  a  lot  of  unpleasant  publicity. 
I  can  be  with — friends,  out  of  the  way  in  an  hour's 
time,  if  I  have  the  money.  You  see  that,  Doctor?" 

"You  can  go  down  and  get  your  week's  salary  from 
the  cashier."  He  spoke  with  curt  finality.  "Further 
than  that,  I  refuse  to  compromise  with  you." 

The  answer  stunned  her,  overtaxed  her  carefully 
maintained  repression. 

"My  week's  salary?  Doctor,  I'll  need  money.  It's 
too  late  to  do  anything  in  town,  and  I  can't  cash  a 


280  SWALLOWED  UP 

check  for  a  sufficient  amount  in  the  village.  You 
always  keep  from  five  to  ten  thousand  here  in  the  safe, 
and  I  must  have  it." 

She  waited.  His  face  was  like  flint,  his  eyes  stone 
cold.  It  frightened  her,  and  she  cast  her  reserve  to 
the  wind. 

"You  couldn't  leave  me  here — with  Higgins?-  For 
your  own  sake,  you  couldn't.  He'll  get  off.  He's  got 

pull.  But  I— I "  She  folded  her  arms.  "You 

don't  dare." 

"You  will  have  a  hard  time  implicating  me  in  any 
of  your  criminal  performances,"  he  said  haughtily. 
"The  fact  that  as  soon  as  I  learned  of  Miss  Ranger's 
identity,  I  took  steps  to  return  her  to  her  parents,  ex 
onerates  me." 

She  sought  through  her  memory  for  some  threat  to 
hold  over  him.  But  Bristow  was  far-sighted.  He 
had  always  left  himself  a  loophole  of  escape  from  the 
other  two.  She  had  nothing,  not  even  a  scrap  of 
paper,  which  would  involve  him,  and  his  manner  con 
vinced  her  that  neither  had  Higgins.  Bristow  had 
considered  every  contingency,  and  discounted  it.  She 
knew  him  too  well  to  doubt  that.  And  he  was  now 
carrying  the  thing  through  with  a  high-handed  audac 
ity,  that  would  mean  success ;  while  she— 

"Kelsey?"  she  said  suddenly.  "It's  not  certain  that 
he's  drowned.  Suppose  he  turns  up?" 

She  paused  triumphantly,  sure  that  she  had  at  last 
found  the  weak  spot  in  his  armor. 


SWALLOWED  UP  281 

"Dr.  Kelsey  has  turned  up,"  he  replied  coolly.  "He 
is  alive  and  safe,  I  am  happy  to  say,  and  I  have  been 
in  communication  with  him.  I  owe  the  dear  fellow  all 
the  amends  I  can  make  him.  Another  score  against 
you,  Miss  Copley;  I  have  you  to  thank  for  those  doc 
tored  records  that  induced  me  to  hold  him  here  as  a 
patient.  One  more  reason,"  sternly,  "why  I  cannot 
connive  at  your  proposed  getaway." 

Kelsey  alive,  and  on  terms  with  Bristow !  She  was 
past  defiance  now. 

"You'll  sacrifice  me?  You'll  trample  me  in  the 
mud  ?  You  mean  it  ?  You  really  mean  it  ?"  she  mut 
tered. 

She  seemed  utterly  to  have  forgotten  Hope.  He 
and  she  were  alone  together,  and  this  was  the  end  of 
the  long  drama  between  them — the  merciless  end. 

Bristow  even  in  his  sense  of  victory  felt  a  passing 
amazement.  Anita,  cowed,  beaten,  accepting  the  situ 
ation  without  more  of  a  scene,  was  something  new 
to  him.  But  Anita  was  of  as  little  concern  to  him 
now  as  so  much  flotsam  under  his  feet.  A  new  day 
was  dawning  for  him — a  respectable,  honored,  affluent 
day. 

"Come,"  he  said  to  Hope,  and  took  her  hand. 

Anita  stiffened.  He  was  going,  without  a  word, 
without  even  a  glance  at  her,  passing  from  her  life  in 
triumph.  Her  life!  Again  she  thought  of  Higgins. 
The  years  that  she  had  served  him  would  count  for 
nothing.  He  had  always  given  her  her  share  of  any 


282  SWALLOWED  UP 

deal,  but  he  had  never  let  her  forget  that  she  was 
in  his  power.  Auburn!  She  saw  the  gray  prison 
walls,  she  felt  the  rough  prison  dress  chafe  her 
skin. 

She  flung  her  arms  out  across  the  door,  barring  the 
way. 

"Don't  you  try  it!  Don't  you  try  it!"  her  voice 
rising.  "You'll  settle  with  me  before  you  go.  I  don't 
play  the  goat  for  you  or  anybody  else." 

"Move  aside!"  Bristow  commanded. 

She  sneered  and  held  her  ground.  He  attempted  to 
push  her  away;  but  she  had  set  her  feet  and  did  not 
budge. 

There  was  a  brief,  sharp  struggle  between  them. 
She  felt  herself  giving  way  before  his  greater  strength. 

"Harvey!"  She  was  sobbing.  "You  wouldn't  do 
it !  You  wouldn't.  Not  after  all  we  have  been  to  each 
other." 

He  shut  his  teeth,  and  made  another  and  more  suc 
cessful  effort  to  pull  her  from  the  door.  She  thrust 
her  hand  in  her  pocket,  and  jerking  out  the  hypodermic 
syringe  she  had  brought  for  Hope,  jabbed  at  him  with 
it. 

He  threw  himself  sideways,  and  shifted  his  grip  to 
catch  her  by  the  arms.  She  wrested  the  right  one  free, 
and  reaching  over  his  shoulder,  struck  wildly  at  the 
back  of  his  neck. 

Suddenly  he  crumpled,  fell  heavily  against  her,  and 
slipped  through  her  arms  to  the  floor.  By  one 


SWALLOWED  UP  283 

chance  out  of  a  hundred  she  had  driven  the  needle  into 
the  base  of  his  brain. 

She  stared  down  at  him,  stupefied.  What  was  the 
matter?  Had  he  fainted?  A  weak  heart?  She  had 
never  known  it. 

She  was  on  her  knees  beside  him,  thrusting  her  hand 
through  his  waistcoat  to  his  breast. 

"He's  dead!"  she  gasped. 

She  had  lifted  his  head  on  her  other  arm.  Now, 
as  she  withdrew  it,  she  saw  a  fleck  or  two  of  blood  on 
her  starched,  white  sleeve.  She  looked  from  it  to  the 
hypodermic  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  under 
stood. 

Screaming,  she  flung  herself  on  his  body,  begging 
him  to  forgive  her,  to  come  back.  She  hadn't  meant 
it.  She  wouldn't  have  harmed  a  hair  of  his  head. 
She  loved  him,  loved  him! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

DURING  the  struggle,  Hope  had  shrunk  back. 
Then  at  its  appalling  climax  she  stood  mo 
tionless,  living  through  a  cycle  in  a  second. 

While  Anita  was  abandoning  herself  to  her  remorse 
and  despair,  the  first  staggering  horror,  the  panic  of 
helplessness  passed.  Hope's  one  idea  now  was  flight. 
She  started  for  the  door. 

The  movement,  light  as  it  was,  aroused  Anita.  She 
rose  to  her  knees,  and  clutched  the  bunch  of  keys  at  her 
belt. 

"You  forget  it's  locked!"  She  looked  at  the  girl 
with  such  burning  hatred,  such  evil  intent,  that  a  chill 
ran  down  Hope's  spine. 

It  was  true.  In  her  excitement  she  had  lost  sight 
of  the  fact  that  the  spring  lock  on  the  door  could  only 
be  opened  by  one  of  the  keys  in  Anita's  possession. 

Now  she  knew  that  it  was  between  her  and  this 
woman,  and  she  was  fighting  not  for  freedom  but  for 
her  life.  The  flaming  devils  in  Anita's  murky  eyes 
showed  her  that  she  would  have  to  meet  the  super 
normal  strength  of  frenzy. 

But  she  knew,  too,  that  the  nurse  underestimated 
her.  During  the  time  that  she  had  feigned  insanity, 
she  had  never  let  Anita  suspect  her  real  strength  and 
agility.  Even  that  morning  she  had  taken  her  beating 

284 


SWALLOWED  UP  285 

at  the  woman's  hands  as  one  overcome  by  superior 
might. 

Anita  came  gliding  toward  her,  circling  nearer  and 
nearer,  following  the  method  of  a  snake  with  a  tranced 
bird.  Hope  waited,  watching  every  movement. 
Trained  in  all  manner  of  outdoor  sports,  she  knew  that 
she  could  depend  on  her  fleetness  and  the  ability  to  di 
vine  an  opponent's  next  move  before  it  was  made;  and 
she  had  proved  to  herself  the  night  before  that  her 
muscles  had  not  grown  flabby  from  inaction. 

Anita,  mad  to  batter  her,  trample  her,  mar  the  beauty 
which  she  believed  had  taken  Bristow  from  her,  made 
a  rush,  her  hands  crooked  like  claws  to  tear  the  girl's 
face.  Hope  caught  her  wrists  and  forced  them  down. 

With  a  wrench  the  other  released  herself,  and  the 
two  grappled.  At  last  Hope  succeeded  in  throwing 
Anita  off,  and  sent  her  spinning  across  the 'room,  but 
she  did  not  lose  her  foothold. 

A  table  was  between  them  now,  and  Anita  could 
afford  to  spend  a  moment  in  getting  her  breath.  Then, 
snarling,  gritting  her  teeth  like  a  wild  animal,  she  came 
on  again;  and  again  Hope  fought  on  the  defensive. 

She  knew  that  Anita's  energy  was  a  flame  without 
fuel,  that  it  was  now  at  its  soaring  height  but  must 
soon  flicker.  The  danger  lay  in  the  nurse  overcoming 
her  before  this  fictitious,  dynamic  vigor  began  to  ebb. 

She  bent  herself  to  the  task  of  holding  the  mad 
woman  off,  to  eluding  her  wild  onslaughts,  and  slip 
ping  away  from  her  crushing  grasp,  rather  than  to 


286  SWALLOWED  UP 

close  with  her  and  make  it  a  test  of  relative  strength. 

Her  every  effort  was  to  wear  Anita  out,  and  she 
felt  at  last  that  she  was  succeeding.  The  nurse's  face 
was  mottled,  her  breath  coming  in  short,  whistling 
gasps,  as  she  made  her  final,  furious  dash. 

They  were  near  the  bed,  and  Hope  seeing  this  did 
not  step  aside,  but  took  the  nurse  by  surprise,  can 
nonading  into  her  with  such  force  that  Anita  rocked, 
her  heels  shot  out,  and  she  fell  backward  across  the 
mattress. 

In  a  second  Hope  was  on  top  of  her,  dragging  her 
arms  together,  holding  down  Anita's  wrists  with  one 
hand  and  tearing  at  the  bedclothes  with  the  other. 

She  managed  to  jerk  the  counterpane  free,  and  with 
difficulty,  for  the  woman  struggled  furiously,  wound 
it  around  Anita's  body,  binding  down  her  arms.  She 
began  to  scream,  and  Hope  stuffed  the  end  of  the 
spread  in  her  mouth.  It  was  an  effectual  gag. 

She  tore  a  sheet  into  strips,  and  with  them  securely 
tied  Anita's  hands  and  ankles.  This  accomplished,  she 
stood  up. 

The  walls  seemed  to  go  swimming  around  her. 
Miss  Copley  here,  Bristow's  body  there ;  the  room  was 
to  her  a  noisome,  unclean  cage  not  only  to  her  senses 
but  to  her  soul.  She  must  get  out  of  it — anywhere. 

She  was  surprised  to  find  herself  suddenly  cool  and 
determined.  She  was  not  trembling,  there  was  no 
feeling  of  exhaustion;  she  was  ready  for  the  next 
venture. 


SWALLOWED  UP  287 

She  bent  over  Anita  and  detached  the  keys  from  her 
belt.  Then  with  rapid  fingers  she  fastened  up  her 
fallen  hair,  and  picking  up  the  bonnet  which  Anita 
had  snatched  from  her  head  in  the  struggle,  straight 
ened  it  out  and  put  it  on. 

Without  a  shudder  she  stooped  and  dragged  Bris- 
tow's  body  from  the  door,  found  the  right  key  and 
walked  out,  locking  the  door  behind  her  and  putting 
the  key  in  her  pocket. 

A  glance  showed  her  that  the  corridor  was  empty, 
and  she  walked  toward  the  stairs.  Bristow  was  dead, 
and  Anita  was  out  of  it  for  hours  to  come.  No  one 
would  go  to  that  room.  She  had  a  chance  of  escape. 

But  Kelsey?  Where  was  he?  If  Bristow  had  lied, 
and  he  was  not  at  the  old  house  but  here,  she  must  save 
him.  How?  There  was  nothing  she  could  do  here. 
Any  attempts  at  inquiry  would  only  result  in  her  own 
discovery  and — well,  after  that  the  deluge.  The 
only  way  she  could  help  him  was  from  the  outside. 
She  saw  that  clearly.  Now  to  reach  the  front  door. 

Bristow  had  told  her  he  was  going  to  take  her  home, 
but  did  he  really  mean  it?  Would  his  car  be  waiting, 
as  he  had  said?  Perhaps  the  chauffeur  had  already 
been  given  his  orders?  In  any  event,  she  would  have 
to  make  the  man  believe  that  she  was  Anita  Copley, 
and  that  Bristow  had  been  detained  and  was  sending 
her  to  town  on  an  important  errand.  She  must  not 
show  a  quiver  of  uncertainty;  everything  depended 
on  her  power  to  carry  the  situation.  Her  nerve  might 


288  SWALLOWED  UP 

fail  her  if  there  were  only  herself  to  consider;  but  for 
Kelsey,  to  free  him,  she  was  ready  to  do  and  dare  any 
thing. 

She  was  half-way  down  the  stairs  when  a  nurse 
came  running  up  from  the  hall  below.  The  woman 
stopped  at  the  landing  and  waited  for  her. 

"I  was  just  coming  after  you,  Anita,"  she  said. 
"Lovely  night,  you've  picked  to  go  out." 

"Yes;  and  I'm  late  into  the  bargain,"  Hope  an 
swered,  imitating  as  well  as  she  could  Miss  Copley's 
voice  and  mannerisms. 

Without  stopping,  she  hurried  on. 

"Bad  as  it  is,  I  wish  I  was  going  with  you,"  the 
nurse  called  after  her. 

Hope  did  not  reply.  She  was  putting  as  much  dis 
tance  as  possible  between  them.  But  the  brief  encoun 
ter  had  given  her  fresh  courage.  One  trickle  of  the 
Rubicon  was  crossed,  if  not  the  whole  stream. 

Through  the  wide  hall-door  she  saw  the  drenched 
lawn,  the  trees  gray  and  unsubstantial  in  the  heavy 
mist  that  was  driving  in  from  the  sea.  Thank  heaven ! 
The  car  was  waiting. 

Her  eyes  fixed  on  this  welcome  sight,  she  crossed 
the  parquetted  floor. 

"Wait!"  bade  a  heavy  cracked  voice.  She  looked 
up  startled  to  see  the  tall,  bowed  figure  of  Higgins. 
"Not  so  fast,  my  dear." 

He  gripped  her  arm,  and  slipped  his  own  through  it. 
Then,  leaning  heavily  on  her  shoulder,  he  forced  her 


SWALLOWED  UP  289 

to  keep  step  with  him  as  he  hobbled  across  the  porch. 

"Right  down  the  steps  now,  and  into  the  car. 
What  made  you  so  late,  Anita?" 

Hope  mumbled  an  unintelligible  response,  and 
glanced  wildly  about  her.  What  was  before  her  now? 
The  car,  she  saw,  was  not  Bristow's  but  Higgins's. 
His  chauffeur  and  valet  sat  on  the  front  seat  in  their 
oilskins,  the  hoods  pulled  down  over  their  heads.  A 
spatter  of  rain  fell  on  her  cheek.  She  was  swept  by 
a  surging  longing  to  scream,  protest ;  but  the  porch  was 
empty,  there  was  no  one  about.  Anyhow,  it  would 
only  result  in  her  being  taken  back  to  that  room. 
Never!  She  preferred  the  unknown.  And  he  had 
said,  " Anita."  She  might  be  able  to  keep  up  the  decep 
tion. 

With  a  firmer  step  she  walked  down  to  the  drive 
way,  and  entered  the  limousine.  Higgins  followed, 
and  slammed  the  car  door. 

He  picked  up  the  speaking-tube  and  gave  an  order. 
Immediately  they  started.  The  gates  were  opened  to 
them,  and  they  rolled  through. 

Hope  leaned  back.  A  deadly  faintness  had  come 
over  her,  when  she  heard  that  order.  They  were  not 
going  to  town.  The  road  he  had  mentioned  led  off 
through  the  sand  and  scrub-oak,  across  the  island. 

She  stole  a  glance  at  Higgins  in  the  light  from  the 
opaque  globe  in  the  roof  of  the  car.  He  was  sitting 
with  head  bent,  his  hands  crossed  over  his  stick,  as  ob 
livious  to  her  as  if  she  were  not  there. 


290  SWALLOWED  UP 

Where  were  they  taking  her?  Did  she  dare  ask 
him?  Was  this  silence  and  absorption  habitual  to 
him  ?  Would  Anita  have  broken  it  ? 

Uncertain  what  to  do,  she  looked  through  the  win 
dow  and  saw  that  they  were  approaching  one  of  the 
loneliest  spots  on  the  island.  They  were  going  slowly 
for  the  way  was  rough  and  the  fog  thick.  The  win 
dow-pane  was  blurred  with  rain,  but  she  knew  the  lo 
cality  too  well  to  mistake  it. 

Her  debate  with  herself  was  interrupted.  Higgins 
had  lifted  the  speaking-tube  again,  and  ordered  the 
chauffeur  to  turn  down  a  road  even  more  unfrequented 
than  the  one  they  were  traveling. 

But  instead  of  complying,  the  car  was  stopped ;  there 
was  a  word  or  two  between  the  valet  and  chauffeur, 
and  then  the  valet  jumped  down  and  came  around  to 
the  side. 

Higgins  grunted  and  swore. 

"Can't  you  damn'  fools  understand  plain  English?" 
he  asked  as  the  valet  opened  the  door.  "What  the  hell, 
you  stoppin'  for?" 

"You've  said  it!"  The  valet  pushed  the  muzzle  of 
an  automatic  against  the  old  man's  chest.  "It's  hell, 
and  going  to  be  for  you  from  now  on.  Hands  up!" 

Hope  gave  a  cry,  and  stretched  out  her  trembling 
arms.  The  man  in  the  valet's  oilskins  was  Kelsey. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

CALLING  to  the  chauffeur,  who  had  also  swung 
down  and  was  now  at  his  elbow,  to  keep  his 
gun  on  Higgins,  Kelsey  sprang  into  the  car 
and  gathered  Hope  in  his  arms. 

She  fell  limply  against  him;  and  thinking  that  she 
had  fainted,  he  laid  her  back  against  the  cushions, 
chafing  her  hands  and  murmuring  tender  words. 

But  Hope  had  not  lost  consciousness.  She  was 
merely  so  thunderstruck,  so  overcome  that  she  suff 
ered  a  temporary  suspension  of  her  powers  of  mental 
coordination.  To  her,  Kelsey's  unexpected,  incred 
ible  appearance,  the  fact  that  he  was  beside  her,  his 
arms  about  her,  was  surely  one  of  the  incongruous, 
impossible  happenings  of  a  dream. 

The  situation  itself  carried  all  the  stigmata  of  a 
nightmare;  the  lonesome  road,  the  dark,  drizzly  eve 
ning,  the  drifting,  unearthly  mist,  herself  in  a  nurse's 
dress  in  a  car  with  this  malevolent,  old  man.  What 
could  it  be  but  a  confused  conglomerate  of  former  im 
pressions  and  fears? 

And  as  if  to  confirm  the  dream-like  character  of  the 
affair,  on  top  of  the  valet's  abrupt  transformation  into 
Kelsey,  the  chauffeur  at  the  door  disclosed  the  lean, 
dark  face  and  spoke  with  the  devil-may-care  drawl  of 
the  motor-cyclist  she  had  sent  for  a  doctor  the  night 

291 


292  SWALLOWED  UP 

before.  She  wondered  if  she  were  not  after  all  the 
victim  of  delusions. 

"What's  this?  What's  this?"  Higgins  was  stam 
mering,  as  he  recovered  from  his  first  startled  amaze 
ment.  "A  hold-up?" 

"No,  you  old  buzzard,"  the  motor-cyclist  chauffeur 
informed  him,  thrusting  his  face  close  to  the  alder 
man's.  "It's  your  Day  of  Judgment.  You've  come 
to  the  end  of  your  line,  Bill." 

Higgins  still  seemed  unable  to  comprehend. 
"Adolf!  Benuet!"  He  called  the  names  of  his  valet 
and  chauffeur. 

"They've  sold  you  out,  old-timer.  The  rats  as  us 
ual  deserted  the  sinking  ship." 

"Humph!  And  who  are  you?"  He  peered  from 
one  to  the  other  with  his  dim-sighted  eyes. 

"Nobody  in  particular,  Bill.  Just  Juarez  Charlie 
and  George  Kelsey." 

"Hold  on  there!"  he  interrupted  the  little  flourish  of 
this  announcement  as  Higgins  involuntarily  dropped 
his  hands.  "Keep  those  hooks  up  above  your  head. 
Kelsey,  frisk  him." 

He  waited  to  see  that  the  search  was  thoroughly 
made.  No  weapon  was  found  on  Higgins's  person; 
but  still  not  content,  Charlie  himself  carefully  investi 
gated  the  lining  and  cushions  of  the  car,  and  as  an 
added  precaution,  made  the  old  man  change  places  with 
Hope. 

"I  guess  he's  harmless  for  the  first  time,"  he  de- 


SWALLOWED  UP  293 

cided  finally.  "But  keep  your  gun  bent  on  him,  Kelsey. 
Don't  take  any  chances  with  a  rattlesnake.  Now,  that 
we've  got  you,  Bill,  old  dear,  we  wouldn't  lose  you  for 
the  world.  Miss  Ranger,"  ceremoniously,  "I  sup 
pose  the  order  is,  'Home,  James !'  ' 

Bowing,  he  closed  the  door,  and  climbing  back  to  the 
chauffeur's  seat,  turned  the  car  around  and  started  for 
the  main  highway.  Kelsey  seated  himself  opposite 
Hope,  and  covered  her  hands  with  one  of  his;  the  other 
held  his  automatic  ready  for  instant  use. 

"Hope!"  he  murmured  rapturously.  "You're  safe 
at  last.  You're  going  home.  Do  you  realize  it?" 

"George!  George!"  Stunned  by  the  wonder  of 
it  all,  she  could  only  grip  his  fingers  and  repeat  his 
name. 

Higgins,  slumped  down  in  his  corner  of  the  car, 
seemed  grimly  to  have  accepted  the  situation.  But 
had  he  been  capable  of  mischief,  Kelsey  could  hardly 
have  prevented  it;  for  he  saw  nothing,  thought  of 
nothing  but  Hope.  Her  breath  was  coming  in  long, 
broken  sobs;  she  was  trembling  violently  from  head 
to  foot. 

"Don't  try  to  be  calm,"  Kelsey  urged.  "Let  your 
self  go,  dearest.  Cry,  if  you  can.  Everything's  all 
right  now.  Juarez  Charlie's  driving,  and  I  am  here 
with  you." 

"But  how?  How?"  She  clung  to  him.  "He 
told  me  that  you  were  at  the  old  house." 

"Who  told  you  that  ?     The  old  man  here  ?" 


294  SWALLOWED  UP 

"No,  no.  It  was  Dr.  Bristow — before  he  was 
killed." 

"Killed?"  Kelsey  cried. 

"Yes.  He  is  dead,  murdered.  I — I !"  She 

shuddered  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Kelsey's  first  thought  was,  that  she  had  done  it; 
but  her  next  words  relieved  him. 

"I  saw  it  all.  That  Copley  woman.  She  came  in 
like  a  maniac.  She  is  one.  He  tried  to  push  her 

away  from  the  door,  and "  Her  voice  failed,  she 

put  her  hand  to  her  throat. 

"Don't  tell  it  now,"  said  Kelsey  firmly.  "Try  to 
put  it  out  of  your  mind.  It's  over  and  done  with." 

Higgins  reached  out  and  grasped  him  by  the  knee. 

"Here;  let  her  talk,"  he  directed  harshly.  He 
seemed  to  forget  that  he  was  no  longer  in  a  position  to 
give  orders.  "I  want  to  get  the  straight  of  this." 

Kelsey  turned  frosty  eyes  on  him.  "That'll  do  from 
you,"  he  snapped.  "No  one  is  interested  in  what  you 
want  or  don't  want.  You're  done,  Higgins." 

"But  he's  right,  George."  Hope  sat  up  resolutely. 
"I  shall  feel  better  if  I  tell  it." 

That  clear,  practical  brain  of  hers  was  once  more 
proving  itself  superior  to  the  weakness  of  the  flesh. 
With  marvelously  steadied  poise,  and  with  scarcely 
a  quaver  in  her  voice,  she  went  into  all  the  details,  the 
quickly  shifting  scenes  of  that  crowded  half-hour. 

Higgins  leaning  forward,  his  ear  bent  to  catch  every 
word,  neither  interrupted  nor  made  any  comment; 


SWALLOWED  UP  295 

but  Kelsey  was  less  impassive.  The  tale  she  was  tell 
ing  so  simply  and  clearly,  without  dramatic  emphasis, 
turned  him  sick  with  fright.  He  was  appalled  at  the 
danger  to  which  she  had  been  exposed,  the  narrow 
margin  of  her  chances.  And  when  she  described  her 
battle  with  Anita  Copley,  his  self-control  gave  away. 
He  could  only  whisper  passionate  endearments,  his 
eyes  clouding  with  unashamed  tears. 

Charlie  driving  steadily  ahead  was  turning  over  the 
information  in  his  mind,  wondering  what  effect  if  any 
this  might  have  on  their  program ;  for  Kelsey  had  low 
ered  the  sash  between  them,  so  that  he  might  over 
hear  Hope's  story. 

None  of  the  three  had  any  cause  to  mourn  Bristow ; 
Charlie  indeed  had  never  seen  him.  Yet  it  struck 
them  all  with  a  repugnant  shock  to  hear  Higgins  give 
a  wheezing  chuckle  at  the  conclusion. 

"So  that  hell-cat  finally  done  for  him?"  he  remarked 
callously.  "That's  what  all  his  smoothness,  and  eddi- 
cation  and  God-A'mighty  ways  amounted  to.  He  lets 
a  jealous  Jane  bump  him  off  with  a  dope-squirter. 
Well,  good  enough  for  him,  the  dirty,  double-crossin' 
dog."  He  ran  on,  heaping  abusive  epithets  on  the 
dead  man,  until  Kelsey  threatened  to  gag  him  if  he  did 
not  shut  up. 

"That  old  ruffian's  got  to  keep  quiet,"  he  said  to 
Hope  under  his  breath.  "But  I  can't  truthfully  say 
that  I  blame  him  a  lot.  Bristow  was  surely  preparing 
to  scuttle  the  Combine.  By  Jove,  that  explains,  too, 


296  SWALLOWED  UP 

why,  when  he  knew  where  I  was,  he  made  no  attempt 
to  get  me. 

"Lucky  thing,  Juarez,"  he  turned  his  head  and  spoke 
to  Charlie,  "that  we  decided  to  play  your  other  hunch." 

Charlie  nodded,  looking  straight  before  him;  to 
drive  through  a  thick  night  requires  one's  undivided 
attention. 

"What  was  that?  The  other  hunch?"  Hope  asked 
curiously. 

Glad  to  divert  her  thoughts,  Kelsey  plunged  into  the 
recital  of  his  own  adventures  from  the  time  she  had 
left  him  asleep  in  the  passageway — of  his  awakening 
to  find  Juarez  Charlie  with  him ;  how  Charlie  happened 
to  be  in  the  house;  the  subsequent  consultations  which 
resulted  in  their  sending  for  Morton;  the  diffi 
culty  they  had  in  convincing  the  latter  of  the  truth 
of  their  story,  and  his  reluctant  assent  to  play  the 
spy. 

Hope  listened  no  more  keenly  than  did  Higgins. 
It  irritated  Kelsey  that  he  had  to  gratify  the  curiosity 
of  the  old  wretch,  and  annoyed  him  still  more  that 
Higgins,  in  spite  of  all  this  evidence  piling  up  against 
him,  was  not  more  crushed.  His  interest  actually 
seemed  stronger  than  his  fear. 

"Keep  back  in  your  corner,"  Kelsey  ordered,  and 
lowered  his  voice  in  the  hope  that  the  old  man  might 
be  able  to  catch  only  a  word  here  and  there. 

"After  Morton  had  left,"  he  went  on,  "I  could  see 
that  Charlie  was  not  entirely  satisfied.  He  kept  pacing 


SWALLOWED  UP  297 

the  floor  and  muttering  that  it  wasn't  wise  to  put  all 
your  eggs  in  one  basket.  I  was  pretty  well  on  edge, 
and  it  didn't  add  to  my  cheer.  But  finally  after  rolling 
more  cigarettes  than  he  could  smoke,  and  snapping 
his  fingers  until  I  swore  at  him,  he  condescended  to  en 
lighten  me. 

"  'Kelsey,'  he  said,  'I'm  figuring  on  taking  a  chance. 
Did  you  hear  me  asking  your  friend  about  the  menials 
that're  closest  to  the  noblesse  over  at  the  sanitarium?' 

"I  had ;  and  it  provoked  me  that  he  should  be  fiddling 
around  with  such  irrelevant  details,  when  time  was  so 
important. 

"But  he  soon  showed  me,  that  he  had  a  reason  for 
it.  'That  chauffeur  of  Hobo  Bill's,'  he  said,  'Slim 
Bennett  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine,  although  I 
didn't  tell  friend  Morton  so.  The  dear  lad  would  be 
doing  time  now  if  Bill  hadn't  plucked  him  as  a  brand 
from  the  burning.  But  you  can  bet  that  Bill  holds  the 
fire  under  him  all  the  time;  and  that  must  irk  Slim. 
It  strikes  me,  Kelsey,  that  it  might  be  a  good  thing  to 
hook  up  with  Slim — dangle  immunity  from  arrest  and 
a  bunch  of  jack  before  his  eyes,  and  see  what  happens. 
Hang  it!  I  can't  feel  sure  in  my  bones  of  this  Mor 
ton  jasper.  I  guess  he's  on  the  level  and  all  that,  but 
he  hasn't  got  any  more  backbone  than  a  fishing-worm, 
and  his  wits'll  run  a  temperature  if  a  cat  sneezes. 
Anyhow,  it  won't  hurt  to  have  two  strings  to  our 
bow.' 

"I  agreed  to  that,"  Kelsey  said,  "but  I  wanted  to 


298  SWALLOWED  UP 

know  what  sort  of  a  fellow  this  Bennett  was.  'Can 
you  trust  him  ?'  I  asked. 

"  'Not  the  length  of  your  eyelash,'  he  said.  'He'd 
mortgage  his  own  mother  for  a  toothpick.  That's 
the  reason  I  think  we  can  use  him.' 

"Juarez  thinks  twice  as  fast  as  I  do.  I  couldn't 
follow  him.  'Use  him?'  I  said  stupidly. 

"  'Sure,  Gorgio.  All  we've  got  to  do  with  Slim  is  to 
convince  him  that  ole  Marse  has  lost  out.  If  we  show 
him  that  the  apple-sauce  is  all  on  our  side  of  the  table, 
he'll  be  after  us  with  his  tongue  out.  Slip  him  one  of 
these  bonds  and  beat  it  into  his  nut  that  his  only  chance 
to  miss  the  well-known  river  trip  is  to  play  in  with  us, 
and  he'll  be  one  of  the  best  little  comrades  you'd  want.' 

'  'But  how  can  you  get  in  touch  with  him  ?'  I  asked. 
'Are  you  going  to  take  the  risk  of  telephoning  again?' 

"  'No ;  I  can  beat  that,'  he  told  me.  'There's  a  kid 
fooling  around  down  there  in  the  woods ;  I've  seen  him 
several  times  from  the  window.  I'll  get  hold  of  him, 
and  have  him  carry  a  message.  Here ;  give  me  a  pen 
cil  and  some  paper.' 

"It  struck  me  as  a  rather  risky  thing  to  do.  A  note 
might  so  easily  fall  into  the  wrong  hands.  But  when 
I  pointed  this  out  to  him,  he  only  laughed. 

"  'Nobody's  going  to  read  this,'  he  said,  'except  the 
man  it's  intended  for,  unless  it  might  be  Higgins  him 
self  and  we'll  have  to  run  that  risk.' 

"I  saw  what  he  meant,  when  he  showed  me  what 
he  had  written.  One  could  hardly  call  it  writing  at 


SWALLOWED  UP  299 

all;  it  was  just  a  few  criss-cross  lines,  with  a  rude 
drawing  of  a  combination  safe  below  them. 

"Juarez  elucidated  the  cryptogram  for  me.  'That's 
hobo  language,'  he  said,  'and  it  tells  Slim  that  his 
brother  Ed  is  waiting  to  meet  him  along  this  road. 
Ed  is  a  yegg  peterman — that's  a  safe-blower — and 
that  picture  of  a  safe  down  there  is  his  moniker.  It's 
a  pitch  that  will  bring  Slim  sure.' 

"He  sneaked  out  then,  and  found  the  boy,  gave  him 
a  dollar  to  carry  the  note,  and  came  back  to  wait.  It 
wasn't  more  than  an  hour  afterward  that  we  saw  Ben 
nett  coming  down  the  road.  Charlie  let  him  pass, 
and  then  by  making  a  quick  detour  through  the  woods 
intercepted  him. 

"He  was  gone  so  long  that  I  was  about  to  start  after 
him,  thinking  that  he  might  have  some  ugly  trouble 
on  his  hands ;  but  just  then  he  came  back  as  shining 
as  a  May  morning. 

"'Hoot,  laddie!'  he  cried.  "That's  the  brawest, 
little  hunch  I  ever  kenned.  Slim  fell  on  my  neck  and 
wept  happy  tears,  when  I  crossed  his  palm  with  a 
bond.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  just  on  the  ragged  edge 
of  mutiny.  He's  a  specialist,  and  he  doesn't  like  to 
be  asked  to  do  odd  jobs.  The  valet  Adolf,  he  says, 
is  also  suffering  from  a  bad  case  of  the  shakes.  Adolf, 
it  seems,  was  all  of  a  twitter  this  afternoon,  and  tipped 
Slim  off  that  there  was  a  big  ruckus  on  between  the 
three  heads.  From  what  he  gathered  by  the  keyhole 
route,  the  bottom  is  dropping  out  of  all  their  plans. 


300  SWALLOWED  UP 

Also,  Adolf  learns  that  Higgins  is  fixing  to  stage  a 
fatal  automobile  accident  to-night,  which  of  course 
would  have  to  be  handled  by  himself  and  Slim;  and 
the  prospect  of  taking  a  chance  on  the  chair  doesn't  ap 
peal  violently  to  either  of  them.' 

"Then,  without  any  warning  of  what  was  coming, 
Charlie  shot  at  me:  'I've  arranged  for  you  and  me 
to  take  their  places  to-night.' 

"Nothing  could  have  suited  me  better.  We  were 
going  to  do  something  at  last."  The  zest  of  that  mo 
ment  shone  again  in  Kelsey's  eyes  as  he  told  of  it. 
"We  had  to  wait  a  while,  and  time  never  dragged  so 
slowly.  But  at  last  we  set  out,  and  made  our  way 
with  all  caution  to  the  outside  of  the  Sanitarium 
grounds. 

"We  didn't  know  but  that  we  were  walking  into 
the  lion's  mouth.  However,  that  possibility  had  to 
take  care  of  itself.  We  weren't  going  to  fail.  And 
everything  went  right.  The  two  men  met  us  as  Slim 
had  arranged,  guided  us  by  a  back  path  to  the  garage, 
changed  clothes  with  us  and  gave  us  each  a  revolver. 
So  here  we  are." 

Before  Hope  could  speak,  Higgins  lurched  toward 
Kelsey. 

"Gag  me  if  you  want  to!"  he  burst  out.  "But  I'm 
going  to  say  that  Bristow  was  the  damn'dest  jackass 
muddler  that  I've  ever  trained  with,  and  I've  had  a 
many.  I  told  that  blank  fool  a  dozen  times  that  he 


SWALLOWED  UP  301 

ought  to  croak  you  two,  and  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me. 
Now,  see  where  it's  got  him  to." 

"Thanks  for  them  kind  words,  Bill,"  Charlie  slowed 
down  to  call  over  his  shoulder.  "You  always  were 
ready  to  reward  any  one  who  did  good  work  against 
you  by  railroading  'em  into  heaven.  Approbation 
from  Sir  Hubert  Stanley,  as  I  read  somewhere  once,  is 
praise  indeed." 

He  waited  for  a  rumbling  stream  of  curses  and 
abuse  from  Higgins,  but  none  came.  Charlie  wagged 
a  puzzled  head,  and  drove  faster.  They  were  on  the 
highway  now. 

"I  don't  like  the  way  the  old  grapefruit  is  acting," 
he  muttered.  "He's  taking  it  altogether  too  darned 
easy." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   straggling  procession  of   Main   Streets, 
which    is    the    Merrick    Road,    was    almost 
ended;  that  white  ribbon  of  macadam  and 
oyster-shell,  with  one  village  shirred  on  to  another  as 
it  follows  the  windings  of  the  South  Shore,  was  about 
to  fray  out  into  the  asphalt  threads  of  the  city. 

Past  miles  of  tree-shaded  sidewalks  and  hedges  they 
had  come,  where  comfortable-looking  houses  stood 
back  from  the  road  in  wide,  well-kept  yards ;  through 
punctuating  dots  of  tiny  business  centers — a  row  of 
white-fronted  small  shops,  a  verandahed  hotel,  a  gar 
age,  a  red  and  white  barber's  pole  at  the  curb,  the  flar 
ing  lights  of  a  movie  theater — the  macadam  giving 
way  for  a  block  or  two  to  brick  paving  and  the  foot 
paths  to  cement;  and  then  again  the  hedges  and  trees 
and  houses. 

Under  other  circumstances,  on  a  summer  day  with 
fleecy  clouds  drifting  across  the  blue  Long  Island  sky, 
the  crimson  ramblers  all  ablow,  the  green  leaves  danc 
ing  overhead,  and  motors  glinting  back  and  forth  in 
the  sunshine,  Juarez  Charlie's  vagabond  soul  might 
have  been  tempted  to  loiter ;  or  on  an  evening  when 
the  stars  were  out,  and  the  fireflies  sparkling  over  the 
lawns,  and  the  south  wind  carried  the  mingled  per 
fume  of  growing  things  and  the  scent  of  the  sea. 

302 


SWALLOWED  UP  303 

But  to-night  the  brave  panoply  of  June  was  veiled 
by  mist  and  fog,  the  trees  dripped  dismally,  the  road 
lights  were  mere  opaque  globules  in  a  world  of  gloom. 
The  tires  of  the  limousine  instead  of  gripping  the 
roadway,  spattered  through  puddles  and  constantly 
threatened  to  skid. 

And  Charlie's  mercurial  spirit  was  overcast  with 
misgiving,  shadowed  by  the  perturbing  claims  of  his 
responsibility. 

Crouched  over  the  wheel  in  his  hooded  oilskins,  his 
gargoyle  profile  thrust  forward  as  he  peered  into  the 
murk  ahead,  he  was  like  some  schooner  captain  navi 
gating  in  uncertain  waters.  All  his  attention  was 
given  to  the  car,  yet  he  did  not  forget  from  time  to 
time  to  cast  a  vig'ilant  glance  over  his  shoulder  to  make 
sure  that  Higgins  was  not,  as  he  put  it  to  himself, 
starting  something. 

He  could  not  shake  off  that  ominous  sense  of  im 
pending  trouble.  Lady  Luck  had  been  too  complai 
sant;  she  was  certain  to  offset  her  favors  by  some 
equalizing  slap,  and  he  bent  his  wits  to  speculating 
what  form  it  would  take,  on  the  chance  of  averting  it. 

A  smash-up?  That  might  easily  happen  on  such 
a  night  as  this,  at  the  pace  they  were  traveling. 
What  advantage  to  rescue  Lorry's  daughter,  if  she 
were  killed  or  maimed  through  his  recklessness  ?  And 
at  the  picture,  he  would  involuntarily  slow  up. 

Then  he  would  ask  himself,  how  he  dared  moderate 
his  speed?  How  did  he  know  that  Anita  Copley  had 


3o4  SWALLOWED  UP 

not  regained  her  liberty  ?  It  was  extremely  likely  that 
Hope  in  her  excitement  had  tied  a  bungling  knot,  or 
that  somebody  had  found  the  woman  and  released  her. 
And  this  nurse  according  to  all  accounts  was  a  person 
to  be  reckoned  with. 

Also,  why  was  Higgins  so  submissive?  Was  this 
apparent  escape  merely  a  frame-up  contrived  by  that 
cunning,  old  brain,  with  Adolf  and  Bennett  only  pre 
tending  to  sell  out,  so  as  to  have  them  waylaid  on  the 
road  and  wipe  the  slate  clean — kill  three  birds  with 
one  stone,  as  it  were?  It  seemed  a  wild  conjecture, 
and  yet  it  was  just  the  sort  of  trap  that  the  crafty 
old  wretch  might  devise. 

So  at  each  lonely  patch  of  road  or  possible  spot  of 
ambush,  Charlie  would  crouch  low  and  send  the  car 
shooting  ahead,  half -expecting  to  be  plugged  by  a 
bullet. 

And  then,  realizing  again  the  dangerous  risks  he  was 
taking  on  that  slippery  highway,  he  would  drop  to 
a  crawl,  and  carefully  observe  the  posted  traffic  rules. 
He  must  not  be  held  up  by  some  officious  country  con 
stable,  he  told  himself,  if  this  escape  was  on  the  level. 
That  would  give  Higgins  the  opportunity  he  wanted  to 
set  the  organized  power  of  the  Combine  against  them. 

But  was  it  on  the  level  ?  As  he  ran  over  the  vary 
ing  possibilities  of  the  situation,  Charlie's  foot  was 
continually  straying  from  the  brake  pedal  to  the 
accelerator,  and  from  the  accelerator  back  to  the  brake. 


SWALLOWED  UP  305 

"This  night's  work  is  certainly  going  to  turn  one 
head  white,  Gibbs,"  he  confided  to  his  unseen  valet. 
"I  only  wish  I  could  trade  places  with  you  for  the  next 
hour  and  a  half." 

At  last,  he  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

"Jamaica!"  He  pointed  to  a  hillside  ahead,  with 
scattered  lights  over  it,  as  he  turned  back  to  Hope  and 
Kelsey.  "I'm  going  to  stop  here  and  telephone.  And 
you'd  better  gag  William  the  Silent  there,  and  sit  on 
him,  while  I'm  about  it.  We  don't  want  to  attract 
such  attention  as  he'd  love  to  create,  if  he  had  half  a 
chance." 

"I'll  look  after  him,"  Kelsey  responded  grimly. 

He  expected  some  protest  from  the  arrogant  old 
man;  but  Higgins  evidently  regarded  it  as  the  for 
tunes  of  war,  and  offered  no  resistance,  as  Kelsey  im 
provised  a  strait-jacket  of  his  rubber  coat,  slipping 
its  hood  over  the  face  in  such  a  way  as  to  muffle  any 
outcry. 

The  proceeding  was  just  concluded  when  they 
splashed  over  a  bridge  and  trundled  decorously  into 
town. 

Choosing  an  inconspicuous  place  to  stop  beyond  the 
Peace  Monument,  Charlie  drew  up  to  the  curb  and 
hurried  into  a  drug  store.  After  an  interval,  he  re 
appeared,  much  of  his  customary  jauntiness  restored. 

"Gum?"  He  tossed  a  package  of  it  back  to  Kelsey. 
"You  can  give  Friend  Willie  a  stick  of  it  when  his 


3o6  SWALLOWED  UP 

jaws  are  in  commission  again.  Aids  digestion,  the 
wrapper  says.  Maybe  it'll  help  him  to  swallow  his 
bitter  pill." 

Kelsey  swept  aside  the  offering.  "Did  you  get  Mr. 
Ranger?"  he  asked. 

"Less  use  of  names,"  Charlie  admonished,  with  a 
hasty  glance  around. 

"Well,  did  you  get  him?" 

"Nope."  Charlie  was  still  impishly  reticent.  "I 
didn't  try.  Too  temperamental." 

"But  you  telephoned  to  some  one,  didn't  you?" 

"Refuse  to  answer.  Might  tend  to  incriminate  or 
degrade  me,  if  it  was  known  I'd  been  talking  to  a 
lawyer.  You  can  draw  your  own  conclusions,  though, 
when  I  tell  you  I  was  exchanging  a  few  remarks  with 
a  party  whose  name  begins  with  H.  That  might 
stand  for  Hennessy." 

"Or  Higby,"  suggested  Hope. 

"Also  Harding,  Hughes  and  Hoover,"  Charlie 
grinned.  "If  there  are  no  further  nominations,  we 
will  proceed  to  a  ballot.  Mr.  Secretary,  please  call  the 
roll." 

Kelsey  knew  there  was  no  use  trying  to  argue  with 
Charlie  when  he  was  in  one  of  these  moods. 

"All  right,"  he  said  huffily.  "But  you  can  at  least 
tell  us  what  your  Mr.  H.  had  to  say." 

"Presently."  Charlie  was  back  in  his  seat  again  by 
this  time.  "We've  got  to  be  on  our  way  now." 

But   when  he   attempted  to  drive   on,   the   starter 


SWALLOWED  UP  307 

wouldn't  work.  For  several  minutes  he  fussed  with 
it,  following  various  suggestions  from  Kelsey  and 
Hope;  but  it  was  plainly  out  of  order,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  avoid  further  delay.  Already,  one  or  two 
passers-by  had  paused  to  watch  his  unavailing  efforts ; 
a  crowd  would  soon  be  collecting. 

Muttering  anathemas  on  the  balky  device,  Charlie 
clambered  down  again,  and  went  to  the  front  of  the  car 
to  crank  up. 

His  experience  at  cranking  had  been  hitherto  con 
fined  to  flivvers.  He  did  not  reckon  on  the  superior 
horse-power  of  the  limousine.  On  the  second  revo 
lution  the  engine  backfired,  hurling  him  into  the  middle 
of  the  street. 

He  picked  himself  out  of  the  mud  and  ran  toward 
Kelsey,  who  was  half-way  out  of  the  door  of  the  car. 

"Get  back  in  there!"  he  hissed.  "Your  job  is  to 
watch  that  old  roustabout." 

All  his  debonnair  complacency  had  vanished.  He 
stood  beside  the  running  board,  his  face  twisted  with 
pain,  gingerly  holding  his  right  arm. 

"Not  so  good,"  he  groaned.  "I  knew  it.  Lady 
Luck  slapped  me — slapped  me  on  the  wrist.  We're 
laid  up ;  crazy  to  try  and  drive  with  one  hand  a  night 
like  this." 

Kelsey,  who  had  been  examining  the  arm,  looked 
grave. 

"I'm  afraid  there's  a  fracture,  old  man;  the  first 
and  second  bones  of  the  carpus.  I'll  step  into  the 


308  SWALLOWED  UP 

drug  store  and  get  some  splints  and  a  roll  of  bandage ; 
and  at  the  same  time  find  out  where  we  can  get  a 
chauffeur." 

"No  strange  chauffeurs,"  Charlie  demurred  stub 
bornly.  "I'll  just  have  to  do  the  best  I  can,  and— 

A  sudden  throbbing  of  the  engine  interrupted  him. 
Unnoticed  by  either  of  the  men,  Hope  had  slipped 
past  them  and  run  to  the  front  of  the  car.  She 
grasped  the  crank  which  had  proved  so  vicious  to 
Charlie,  and  with  a  deft  turn  or  two  had  caught  the 
spark.  Now  she  came  back. 

"I'll  drive  the  rest  of  the  way  to  town,"  she 
said.  "We'll  get  along  perfectly.  You,  Mr.  Juarez 
Charlie,  had  better  look  up  a  doctor,  and  come  on  by 
train." 

"Shucks!"  Charlie  made  light  of  his  injury. 
"They'd  never  speak  to  me  on  the  road  again,  if  they 
knew  I'd  renigged  for  a  little  love-tap  like  this." 

He  had  taken  out  his  handkerchief  for  a  sling  and 
was  knotting  it  with  his  teeth,  disdaining  Kelsey's  as 
sistance. 

"Quit  your  arguing,  both  of  you."  He  took  his 
seat  beside  Hope  in  front.  "Let's  go." 

With  the  car  once  more  in  motion,  and  the  diffi 
culty  apparently  smoothed  away,  Charlie  began  to  talk 
of  his  own  accord. 

"I  rahtheh  fawncy  I  gave  old  Higby  as  much  of  a 
jolt  as  that  darned  engine  gave  me,"  he  observed,  turn 
ing  about  to  include  Kelsey  in  the  conversation. 


SWALLOWED  UP  309 

"'Hello!  Hello!'  I  said.  This  is  Juarez  Charlie 
talking.'  'Oh?'  he  came  back  with  the  glad  surprise  of 
one  who  has  found  a  lead  quarter  in  his  change.  'In 
trouble  again?' 

"  'Not  exactly  trouble/  I  answered,  'but  something 
I  think  Loring  should  know  about.  Have  him  and 
Mrs.  Ranger  meet  me  at  the  town  house  in  about  an 
hour,  will  you?' 

"Dear  Eustace  froze  up  so  stiff  that  the  wire  had 
icicles  on  it.  It  was  his  duty  to  protect  Ranger,  he 
told  me,  and  he  certainly  was  not  going  to  drag  him 
into  town  on  my  mere  say-so.  There  had  been  too 
much  giving  way  to  me  as  it  was.  If  I  had  any  in 
formation,  I  could  give  it  to  him  and  he  would  decide 
what  measures  to  take. 

"  'Well,'  I  said  very  small  and  humble-like,  'I'm  on 
my  way  to  town  with  Hope,  and  I  had  an  idea  that  her 
father  might  like  to  see  her.  But  of  course,  if  you 
think- 

"Lord!  I  could  hear  the  plaster  fall  as  he  went 
through  the  ceiling.  'What's  that?'  he  yelled.  You 
could  almost  get  it  without  any  telephone.  'You've 
got  Hope?' 

"  'I  have/  I  said,  still  in  my  modest-violet  voice. 
'I  thought  it  might  be  nice  to  have  her  father  and 
mother  on  hand  to  welcome  her.  And,  by  the  way/ 
I  added,  'you  can  also  have  Inspector  Bailey  and  a 
couple  of  cops  among  those  present.  I've  got  the  head 
of  the  Combine  with  me,  too,  and ' 


3io  SWALLOWED  UP 

"Whoa  there,  Sister !"  He  stopped  to  give  a  direc 
tion  to  Hope.  "We  keep  straight  ahead  here." 

They  were  out  of  Jamaica  now,  and  she  had 
swerved  to  the  right  on  Queens  Boulevard  as  the  most 
direct  route  to  town. 

"But  why?"  She  glanced  at  him  inquiringly. 
"Aren't  we  going  in  over  the  Queensboro  bridge?" 

"Not  this  trip,"  he  chuckled,  and  squared  about  so 
as  to  address  himself  especially  to  Higgins,  who  by  this 
time  had  been  relieved  of  his  mufflings. 

"You  see,  Bill,"  kindly,  "if  you're  counting  on  any 
one  having  listened  in  on  my  talk  to  Higby,  you're 
going  to  be  fooled." 

Their  prisoner  roused  up  at  this,  and  bent  forward. 
"How's  that?"  gratingly. 

"Why,  Higby  of  course  wanted  to  know  just  where 
I  was,  and  how  long  before  I'd  arrive,  and  how  I  was 
coming,  and  all  that.  So,  just  to  be  on  the  safe  side, 
I  am  doing  exactly  the  opposite  of  what  I  told  him. 
There  might  have  been  a  reception  committee  of  your 
young  men  awaiting  us  with  a  salute  of  twenty  guns. 

"Disappointed,  eh?  Have  I  made  a  mistake?"  as 
Higgins  with  a  groan  sank  back  in  the  corner  of  the 
car,  abject  and  shaking. 

He  hardly  stirred  again;  but  all  the  way  through 
Brooklyn  lay  in  that  state  of  collapse,  one  arm  hang 
ing  limply  out  of  the  window. 

And  now  the  skyscrapers  of  Manhattan  loomed  be 
fore  them  across  the  river.  Soon  they  were  over  the 


SWALLOWED  UP  311 

Williamsburg  bridge;  and  through  the  East  Side 
streets,  Hope  drove  toward  Fifth  Avenue. 

Spying  the  green  lights  of  a  police  station,  Kelsey 
called  Charlie's  attention  to  them. 

"Let's  get  rid  of  our  passenger,"  he  proposed.  "We 
don't  want  to  spoil  the  homecoming  with  him." 

"Good  Lord!"  Charlie  spoke  irritably.  "That's  the 
one  thing  fhat's  been  goose-fleshing  me  all  the  way,  the 
fear  that  we  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  bulls. 
Figure  it  for  yourself.  Lieutenant  at  desk  looks  up. 
'Why,  Alderman  Higgins,  what's  this?'  They  all 
know  him. 

'  'I've  had  an  awful  time,  Lieutenant,'  says  Bill. 
'These  three  lunatics  captured  me  by  a  trick,  and  have 
been  dragging  me  all  over  Long  Island.  The  woman 
thinks  she's  the  missing  Hope  Ranger.'  What's  the 
result  ?  We  three  are  locked  up.  Bill  calls  a  taxi,  and 
rides  away.  In  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours, 
things  are  straightened  out.  Maybe.  Again,  maybe 
not.  Bill  is  a  power.  It  might  be  that  he  could  have 
us  quietly  spirited  off  to  another  private  booby-hatch, 
and  nobody  the  wiser.  Anyhow,  Bill,  with  a  three 
hours'  start  on  us,  would  be  off  and  gone  to  the  races. 

"No,  little  one;,"  to  Hope ;  "whenever  you  see  those 
emerald  lamps,  sheer  off  like  it  was  a  danger  signal 
and " 

He  gave  a  convulsive  start,  and  stared  over  Hope's 
shoulder  into  the  mirror  at  the  side  of  the  windshield. 

"My  God!"     He  whirled  on  Kelsey.     "What  are 


312  SWALLOWED  UP 

you  doing  back  there?  Can't  you  see  the  old  devil  is 
playing  'possum  on  you?  He's  been  signaling  out 
of  the  window  with  his  hand.  Didn't  make  any  diff 
erence  to  him  which  way  we  came.  He  can  raise  a 
bunch  of  gunmen  in  any  part  of  town. 

"Look  back,  and  see  if  there's  any  one  after  us!" 

But  before  Kelsey  could  do  so,  Hope  whose  eyes 
were  on  the  mirror  gave  a  cry. 

"There's  a  touring  car  full  of  men  just  turned  in 
from  Rivington  Street!" 

Charlie  swerved  back  to  her. 

"That's  them!"  His  voice  rang  shrill.  "Step  on 
her,  Sister !  Step  on  her !  Give  her  all  the  gas  you've 
got!" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

HOPE  threw  the  gears  into  high,  and  shot  the 
limousine   ahead.     The   car   behind  also  in 
creased  its  pace.     She  circled  two  or  three 
blocks  in  the  effort  to  lose  it ;  but  always  when  the  hope 
rose  that  it  had  been  shaken  off,  it  reappeared,  never 
further  than  a  corner  or  two  back. 

Finally,  at  Charlie's  suggestion,  she  straightened  out 
to  a  direct  course. 

"It's  got  to  be  a  race,"  he  said;  "and  I'd  rather  take 
my  chances  in  your  country  than  in  theirs.  Maybe, 
if  we  can  outrun  them  as  far  as  Thirty-fourth  Street, 
they'll  lay  off.  Bat  it  for  Fifth  Avenue,  and  uptown. 
And  give  'em  all  you've  got." 

She  took  him  at  his  word.  Her  foot  grinding  down 
on  the  accelerator,  both  hands  gripping  the  wheel,  her 
lips  drawn  back  over  her  clenched  teeth,  she  tore  across 
town,  heedless  of  slippery  pavements,  sharp  corners, 
car-tracks,  obstacles  or  obstructions. 

A  blow-out  meant  a  funeral;  anything  in  her  path, 
destruction.  But  her  nerve  was  as  sure  as  her  driving. 

At  Lafayette  Street,  she  just  shaved  the  front  of  a 
heavy  truck  and  crowed  jubilantly  as  a  wave  of  pro 
fanity  from  its  driver  swirled  behind  them. 

In  the  empty  canyon  of  lower  Broadway  the  pursu 
ing  car  was  pressing  them  close.  Its  driver  was  tak- 

313 


3i4  SWALLOWED  UP 

ing  the  same  suicidal  chances  as  she.  But  she  cork 
screwed  in  between  the  headlights  of  an  up-bound 
and  a  down-bound  street  car,  and  gained  the  length  of 
a  block. 

Charlie's  none  too  timorous  heart  was  in  his  mouth 
a  dozen  times.  But  the  invulnerability  which  attends 
utter  recklessness  was  hers. 

It  was  one  of  those  things  which  we  say  could  not 
occur — this  race  at  a  subway-express  speed  between 
two  motors  through  the  narrow,  cluttered  ways  of  the 
wholesale  section;  this  flight  and  pursuit;  this  under 
world  attempt  to  rescue  the  brains  of  their  system. 
The  police  would  have  stopped  it;  the  entire  district 
would  have  been  aroused. 

Yet  it  swept  a  roaring  menace  through  that  huddled 
region  of  tenement  houses  and  granite  business  build 
ings,  unchecked  and  unretarded. 

Still  keeping  the  lead,  Hope  twisted  and  turned 
through  two  or  three  more  streets  at  the  same  mad 
pace;  and  then  skidding  around  a  corner,  came  to 
Washington  Square. 

Here,  with  belated  deference  to  the  traffic  regula 
tions,  she  slowed  down  and  at  a  more  normal  rate 
followed  the  driveway. 

Charlie  craning  out  and  looking  back  could  see  no 
sign  of  the  gangsters. 

"I  believe  we've  lost  'em,"  he  announced  optimisti 
cally.  Then  as  they  swept  under  the  arch,  he  jerked 
back.  "No ;  here  they  come !" 


SWALLOWED  UP  315 

Hope  came  down  once  more  on  the  accelerator, 
and  gave  herself,  hand,  foot,  eye  and  soul,  to  the  de 
mand  for  speed. 

A  straight  stretch  of  level  asphalt  for  the  deciding 
brush,  practically  clear  this  rainy  night  of  other  ve 
hicles  except  for  a  lumbering  stage  or  two.  It  was 
about  half-past  ten,  the  zero  hour  of  pre-midnight 
traffic. 

Charlie  leaned  forward  and  read  the  indicator  as 
they  continued  to  gather  momentum. 

Passing  the  Brevoort,  they  were  making  forty  miles 
an  hour. 

"Fifty!"  he  announced,  as  they  jumped  the  car- 
tracks  at  Fourteenth  Street;  and  shouted  in  Hope's 
ear:  "Faster!" 

Ahead  was  the  lighted  plaza  of  Madison  Square. 

"Fifty-five!"  barked  Charlie;  and  again:  "Faster!" 

She  did  not  sound  the  horn  at  all.  Neither  did  the 
car  behind.  It  would  only  call  attention  to  their  fla 
grant  performance  and  serve  no  purpose.  If  they 
crashed,  they  crashed. 

The  spectacle  of  two  motors  racing  up  the  Avenue 
really  attracted  surprisingly  little  notice.  One  or  two 
of  the  pedestrians  on  the  sidewalk  turned  to  watch 
and  gave  a  disapproving  shake  of  the  head. 

Twenty-third  Street  was  crossed  without  accident. 

"Sixty!"  Charlie  read  the  indicator. 

It  was  the  best  that  Hope  could  do.  She  knew  that. 
She  could  not  even  hold  it ;  already  her  foot  was  easing 


316  SWALLOWED  UP 

on  the  pedal,  yielding  to  its  upward  thrust.  That 
"Sixty,"  was  her  limit.  And  it  was  not  enough. 

Steadily,  surely,  the  gunmen's  car  was  creeping  up. 
At  Washington  Square,  it  had  been  more  than  the 
width  of  the  park  behind;  now,  the  distance  was  less 
than  two  blocks. 

But  they  had  almost  reached  the  Waldorf.  They 
were  coming  to  what  Charlie  had  called  Hope's  coun 
try,  the  region  of  big  shops  and  hotels,  the  stamping- 
ground  of  opulence. 

Would  the  outlaws  give -up,  as  he  had  hopefully  pre 
dicted  ? 

Half  in  anticipation  of  this,  half  from  law-abiding 
habit,  she  shifted  her  foot  to  the  brake,  and  at  a  dimin 
ished  speed  approached  the  Thirty-fourth  Street  cross 
ing. 

Charlie  misunderstood  her  action.  He  thought  she 
was  about  to  stop  and  appeal  to  the  traffic  policeman. 

"Keep  on!  Keep  on!"  he  cried.  "One  bull  isn't 
going  to  frighten  those  babies.  Before  you  can  get 
him  to  listen,  their  guns'll  be  cracking.  Hit  it  up, 
Hope!  They're  just  behind  us." 

A  glance  at  the  mirror  proved  his  words.  The  tour 
ing  car  was  so  close,  that  she  could  see  the  reflected 
figures  of  its  six  or  eight  occupants,  the  white  of  their 
faces  under  their  down-drawn  caps. 

Again  her  will  responded,  even  though  her  strength 
was  gone.  She  sent  the  big  car  spinning  in  another 
spurt,  that  almost  regained  the  ground  she  had  lost. 


SWALLOWED  UP  317 

But  it  was  her  spirit's  last  expiring  flame.  She  real 
ized  that  she  might  hold  the  pace  for  six  or  seven 
blocks  more.  Then  she  was  done.  And  the  touring 
car  was  coming  on  faster  than  ever. 

As  she  came  abreast  of  the  Library,  the  colored 
moons  of  the  traffic  tower  at  Forty-second  Street 
flashed  from  yellow  to  red  to  green.  She  had  lost  the 
right  of  way.  All  over  now !  It  would  be  madness 
to  think  of  trying  to  dart  through  that  close-locked 
line  of  cross-town  travel. 

Charlie  had  a  sudden  inspiration. 

"Feel  in  Higgins's  upper,  left-hand  vest  pocket,"  he 
shouted  back  to  Kelsey,  "and  see  if  he  hasn't  got  a 
police  card!" 

Quick  to  catch  the  cue,  Kelsey  leaped  at  Higgins, 
and  rifling  him,  thrust  two  or  three  square  bits  of 
pasteboard  through  the  front  window. 

Shuffling  them  rapidly,  Charlie  sang  out  in  triumph. 

"I've  got  it!     Keep  on  moving,  Sister." 

He  held  it  out  to  show  the  signature  of  the  Police 
Commissioner,  as  an  angry  traffic  cop  came  bellowing 
toward  them;  and,  as  if  by  magic,  the  way  opened. 

Safe  on  the  other  side,  Charlie  looked  back  to  see 
the  touring  car  with  its  load  of  killers  stayed  and  held 
up  by  the  moving  dam. 

"And  now  for  home!"  breathed  Hope. 

"No;  this  way  out!"  Charlie  waved  imperatively  to 
the  left  on  Forty-fourth  Street.  "Don't  think  that 
Bill's  Sunday  School  class  will  lay  down  as  easy  as  that. 


3i8  SWALLOWED  UP 

I'll  bet  that  the  telephone  wires  are  buzzing  right  now 
to  the  uptown  bunch.  There'll  be  a  gang  at  either 
end  of  the  block  where  your  father  lives,  waiting  for 
us.  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  some  people  I  k'now 
on  the  West  Side  until  I'm  sure  of  a  clear  track." 

So,  under  his  direction,  Hope  drove  to  the  apart 
ment  on  Central  Park  West,  which  housed  the  Green- 
bergs. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greenberg,  the  Princess  and  Miss  Mc 
Carthy,  the  ladies  in  gay  evening  wraps,  were  disap 
pearing  through  the  doors,  while  Mr.  Leffler  was  hold 
ing  a  light  to  the  cigarette  of  Mr.  Dave  Greenberg, 
who  was  just  about  to  drive  the  family  car  to  the 
garage. 

"Greenberg!  Wait!"  Charlie  hailed;  and  jumping 
from  the  limousine  as  Hope  drew  up,  rushed  toward 
the  two  men. 

"Listen  fast,  boys,"  he  said.  "We've  got  Hope 
Ranger  here,  and  want  your  bus  to  get  her  home. 
Greenberg,  you  drive  us.  There's  a  crowd  of  gun 
men  after  us.  Leffler,  are  you  game  to  scoot  our  car 
four  or  five  blocks  away,  anywhere,  and  leave  it?" 

For  the  rest  of  his  life  Charlie  retained  an  inordi 
nate  respect  for  those  two  young  men.  They  took  the 
situation  standing.  No  running  around  in  circles  of 
excitement.  No  fool  questions.  They  had  been  in 
the  war,  and  understood  the  value  of  quick  thinking 
and  immediate  action  in  a  surprise  attack. 

They  spoke  in  one  joyous  breath,  and  with  brevity. 


SWALLOWED  UP,  319 

"Sure,"  said  Mr.  Leffler. 

"Get  in,"  said  Mr.  Greenberg. 

Hope  who  was  close  behind  Charlie  sprang  into  the 
Greenberg  car;  and  Charlie  and  Kelsey,  aided  by  Mr. 
Leffler,  dragged  out  Higgins,  a  dead  weight  on  their 
hands,  and  hustled  him  in  after  her.  Kelsey  followed, 
and  Charlie  scrambled  up  beside  the  driver. 

With  his  still  unlighted  cigarette  hanging  from  his 
lips,  Dave  Greenberg  drove  through  the  dim  width  of 
the  Park,  Charlie  leaning  from  his  seat  at  a  perilous 
angle,  his  head  twisted,  watching  for  a  piratical 
craft  to  show  up. 

But  no  wicked  lights  appeared.  It  looked  at  last  as 
if  their  persistent  jinx  of  accident  and  incident  had 
abandoned  them. 

Half-way  across,  Higgins  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  clawed  at  Charlie's  arm. 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  a  piece,  if  you  let 
me  go." 

"Why,  Bill,"  Charlie  spoke  in  pained  surprise, 
"you're  a  piker  after  all.  Our  price  is  just  double 
whatever  you've  got." 

Greenberg  swung  into  Fifth  Avenue,  and  Charlie 
drew  his  first  long  breath  since  they  had  started.  Also, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  adventurous  career,  he  felt  a 
warm,  emotional  regard  for  the  police. 

They  were  sprinkled  up  and  down  the  thorough 
fare,  guarding  it  for  several  blocks  from  the  Ranger 
home. 


320  SWALLOWED  UP 

The  long  strain  was  over  for  all  of  them.  Kelsey, 
sitting  beside  Hope,  felt  a  vast  relief  and  at  the  same 
time  an  infinite  sadness.  He  was  holding  her  hand 
tightly  clasped  in  his,  and  yet  he  felt  that  she  was 
already  far  from  him.  She  was  no  longer  forlorn, 
turning  to  him  for  aid  and  solace. 

The  curtain  was  falling,  and  his  heart  ached.  She 
was  safe  among  those  who  loved  her,  a  great  heiress 
slipping  into  another  world  than  his.  He  was  an 
unknown,  poor  young  man. 

Already  the  car  was  drawing  toward  the  sidewalk. 

"I  want  to  say  good-by  before  you  reach  home." 
His  voice  was  shaky. 

She  loved  him;  so  immediately  she  divined  his 
trouble. 

"George!"  She  looked  at  him  with  a  quaintly  mis 
chievous  smile.  "I  didn't  know  you  were  shy.  Are 
you  afraid  of  my  father  and  mother?" 

It  hurt,  that  light  tone.  "The  adventure's  over," 
he  said,  stoically  calm.  "I  couldn't  take  advantage 
of  your — your— 

Her  lips  brushed  his  cheek. 

"Our  adventure  is  just  beginning,"  she  murmured. 
"A  beautiful  one  this  time." 

THE   END 


000  602  845 


